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PuoUshed monthly by ZIFF-DAVIS PUNISHING COMPANY at 183 North 
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VOLUME 24 


NUMBER 1 


4tl STORIES 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM (Navcl.t— 17,000) ... . By Richcrd S. Shaver 8 

Thar* St! WSArZV- - . ** <* «* «* 

planet, fought baclc In the one way his 'enemies overlooked! 


CITY OF THE DEAD (Novelet— 23,000) B y ©• M - Marfm 38 

Some strange *secret ^wa, "responsible for the apparent death of a city's entire populace. Must 

everybody be revived before the truth could be fully revealed? 

VIAL OF IMMORTALITY (Novelet— 14,000) ....By Craig Browning 82 

Thi, JSgtiif’SmSi ”P>;? »"* '“*■ *■* d ”’" 

beyond that: unless Or. Schwick acted, all mankind was doomed. 

OMEGA (Nov.let-1 2,000) By Guy Archette 108 

When lh. U r‘i r4 i! 4 but b one ll m T an rr |eft on Earth, it is his solemn duty to restore mankind to it, rightful 
place. But what If that last human is a helpless slave? 


DEHENNA. INCORPORATED (Short— 8,000) By Berkeley Livingston 130 

A vast 'so^rce 0 ^ ^cred'ibl^power^waiting to be tapped lay at the center of the Earth. But 
what Meredith forgot is that Hell, itself, has the same location! 


Cover painting by Arnold Kohn. illustrating a 
scene from "We Dance for the Dorn 


Y 


Convrieht 1949, ZLFF-DAVIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 
Member of the Audit Bureau of Circulations . . 


We do not accept respSilUy for the^return o^ with^the^reciuf 

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countries in the article and— or illustrations and P nri acceptance. All photos and 

tien therewith and will be made at our current rat s p names of all characters 

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that are used in short stories, serials and semi-fiction . erson js coincidental, 

fictitious. Use of a name that is the same as that of any living peisun 


'p'lewifo 


THE NEW EDITOR 



HOWARD BROWNE 


W ITH THIS first issue of 1950, Howard 

Browne takes the reins from the 
capable hands of Raymond A. Palmer as 
the new editor-in-chief of AMAZING 
STORIES. We consider ourselves extreme- 
ly fortunate in having been able to lure 
away from the gold signs and glamor of 
Hollywood, this extremely capable and pro- 
lific author of five best-selling novels, in- 
numerable science-fiction stories, over 500 
radio scripts, and several movie scenarios. 
This is probably the first time in history 
that a magazine has stolen a stellar writer 
from Hollywood, rather than the other way 
around. 

F ROM A childhood spent in Arapahoe and 
Lincoln, Nebraska, Howard moved to 


Chicago when he was 18. Shortly there- 
after, a chance occurrence led him to read 
a textbook on creative writing and then, 
more as a gag than anything else, he tried 
his hand at doing fiction. He was startingly 
successful from the very beginning — and 
achieved great popularity in pulp science- 
fiction under numerous pseudonyms. 

U NDER HIS now famous pen name of 

John Evans, he has established an en- 
viable reputation for himself as a writer of 
outstanding mystery-suspense novels, and 
has been acclaimed by reviewers as being 
among the best mystery writers of our 
time. 

I N THE field of science-fiction, his first 

book, WARRIOR OF THE DAWN, 
published over seven years ago, is still 
bringing in royalty checks. And at least 
three of his book-length novels were ad- 
judged to be among the most popular pub- 
lished during 1948 — FORGOTTEN 
WORLDS, THE MAN FROM YES- 
TERDAY, and THE RETURN OF 
THARN (a sequel to WARRIOR OF THE 
DAWN). 

M anaging editor of the Ziff-Davis 

Fiction Group for five years before 
leaving for Hollywood two years ago to 
devote all his time to writing, Howard has 
a true feeling for the editor-writer-reader 
relationship which is so all-important in the 
successful publishing of a top-flight maga- 
zine. And within due course, as soon as he 
becomes rehabilitated in his new job, we 
have his promise of original stories from 
his own pen along the lines of his earlier 
novels. 

R ICH, THEN, in the experiences gar- 
nered from years of editing and free- 
lance writing, Howard Browne brings to 
his new job the wisdom and foresight re- 
quired to put out a truly captivating 
science-fiction magazine. The AMAZING 
STORIES that has always been a leader in 
the realm of science-fiction literature, will 
continue under Mr. Browne’s sensitive se- 
lection of exciting and awesome stories, to 
provide you with many enjoyable and pro- 
vocative hours of reading pleasure. 



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By Richard S. Shaver 


Tlie Dorn had a triple crown, and it 
was by a strange circumstance indeed 
that he set it on Green Wing’s head! 


8 






V ANUE'S great hand, swift and 
light as a seabird for all its 
size, reached for a bronze wand 
and touched with it a silver bell. 

Beside her Firko yawned a little 
sleepily, saying: “Must we look at 
more of those derrish spools? Surely 
we know enough about the effects ? J 

This is for Mion,” softly Vanue’s 
slow sweet-toned words dropped like 
struck notes from some rich life-vi- 
brant harp. “ You will find it inter- 
esting too. If I did not think it would 
drive the sleep from your bored face , 
I would not send for them V* 

Firko turned his broad, ruddy face 
to hers, laughing silently. “ It f s not 


He knelt before her. "I am yourt 
to command," he said softly. 








9 




M 


AMAZING STORIES 


Bleep, its dreams from your eyes, the 
magic of your hair, the moonshine of 
your ivory flesh caught in my mind. 

A man in love is always sleepy in ap- 
pearance." 

Vanue ignored him, turning o 
Mi on, come to Falnorn, their home 
on the satellite of Enn. 

"You came to learn a certain 
method of organization to use in your 
work among the barbarian nations. In 
the records I will show you, there /s 
c *roup of races, intermixed through- 
out one giant planet and four satel- 
lites. These are dark planets in un- 
starred space, yet their culture is shat- 
tered and falls before a singular so- 
cieties grasp for dominance. I wi 
show you why these peaceful peoples 

fell into war. . .” 

One of the floating-haired young 

Nor maids came on quick silkenly 
sliding feet upon the glittering mir- 
ror-floor. Into her Mistress’ hands 
she put a file-disc, bearing in slots 
near a hundred spools of thought 

wire. . 

The fluorescing vapors swirled in 

the prisoning force field, the aug- 
mented record reached out and seized 
US with the greater-than-reality illu- 
sion that is the value of record. For 
one can not forget or miss one detail 
of the recorded wisdom. 


CHAPTER ONE 

rj-iHE EYE of view swept space 
i- through and narrowed on the 
slow, slow, turning of four dark balls 
about a fifth— much greater and the 

center. . 

Each of them was starred with the 

red and gold and green of city domes. 

The red were the factory cities, the 
green the places of growth of plants 
for food, and the gold were where the 
peoples lived— and lived for the plea- 


sure of life alone. 

Then oddly, the eye of view swept 
up and away from the five balls of 
spinning rock, and outward for a 
space. Narrowing again to closer view 
upon a vague drifting, a glowing 
cloud wide-flung like a great river of 
deadly, venomous mist-force. A ser- 
pentine tide of dust-motes, giving off 
through the projection-screen the 
jarring vibrance of exploding atoms. 

The slow, impersonal voice of Va- 
nue struck again through the great 
chamber, and Mion’s heart rose to it 
as always: 

"The current already impinges 
upon the orbit of Gran Jac, the larg- 
est planet. For one month of our 
days it has so flowed. I want you to 
notice the change. It is my purpose 
to show the error it brings into their 
pattern of life. Greater it grows as 
the flow increases 

Again the eye of view left the vast 
serpent of evil force, and swung back 
to the five planets, starred with the 
city keeps of several divergent races. 
Nearer, and down, and now alighting 
upon a wide balcony within the Keep 

of Dorneen. 

* * * 

M ELOA T, her name, upon the 

band of her carnival bonnet, as 

was the custom. For who knows who, 

when the mad gaiety sweeps in tides 

of mirth, mingling all? 

She stood, looking down, brooding 
with an anger strange there above all 
the laughter and the skirl of music in 
the wide plaza below. Anger that 
these were untouched, while her own 
mate ... 

Golden her skin, blue and soft- 
curled her rich wealth of hair. 
Brown-red her eyes, hot with a deep 
resentment against Fate, or men. 
Some thing upon which she could not 

quite pin the fault. 

Glittering the badge hidden from 
the casual eye between her firm 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


W 


breasts — that badge the sign of the 
Winged Blade, set with the single 
green gem of Dom, given her as a 
special honor by the Triple Crown 
himself. 

Puzzled her thought, for until a 
month ago, peace had lain like a 
blanket of warm benevolence between 
the five planets — and now had struck 
the plague! 

The plague, strange rumours of its 
being spread by conspirators, and 
deaths unexplained even by the 
plague. To top it, her own Kal Harn 
had shown the angry red spot to her 
inadvertently. She knew! 

Silly of him to avoid her, to pre- 
tend anger, she knew it meant death. 
That he should think she wanted life 
without him! Yet, he would not come 
near her. Even now he waited in the 
hidden craft among the cold rocks 
outside, that had brought her. Locked 
in, he spoke to her only through the 
telaug disc within her shoulder orna- 
ment. 

Kal Harn, an Eagle Blade, to fall 
among the first! When the sudden 
need was so great, their peril, unex- 
pected — finding them all at a loss. 

A soft sound, behind — she whirled. 

Kal Harn himself, come here in 
spite of the spot upon his arm! She 
put up her arms to him, but his lean 
face remained aloof, he put her arms 
aside. 

“It can't hurt to look, poor devils. 
They are all laughing to keep out the 
fear. To have one last fling before. . 

Even as Meloa noted he had for- 
gotten to conceal the Eagle Blade, 
shining symbol upon his bright green 
tunic with the silver star beneath, as 
if even here the Blades had no ene- 
mies — the man came from the door- 
way, on the run! 

He left his feet two paces away, 
and stpuck Kal with both knees high 
in the small of his back. 

Kal fell with a groan, as the Felar- 


nese, his black-bristled face distorted 
with savage, strange hate, tugged a 
leaden sap from his hip, swung it up. 

Kneeling there on Kal, he ignored 
Meloa as a helpless bit of decoration, 
which was a vast mistake. 

Jj^JELOA CAUGHT the heavy sap 
as he swung it down — in her 
palm, wrenched and twisted hard. 
The leather and lead came free from 
his clutch, and Meloa swung as quick 
as a striking snake — down upon the 
shaven head of the attacker. 

Head and sap made a sickening dull 
thud together. The thing was heavier 
than it seemed, but even as he pitched 
forward she struck again, above his 
ear. He fell across Kal’s back, so that 
she had to roll him over to get him 
off. 

Kal grinned weakly. “I can’t get 
used to this! We never had trouble 
with the Felarnese, much as they may 
hate us. Now, they’re after our blood 
on sight!” 

“You!” Meloa could not keep the 
angry scorn out of her voice. “You 
knew, yet you wore the Blade in plain 
sight! What kind of agent are you? 
Don’t you even know why we are 
here?” 

Kal looked at her dumbly, rubbing 
his side. 

“Oh, Kal, you are sicker than you 
realize! Please let me take you now, 
this nad, to Med-Center.” 

Kal sat up, still rubbing his back. 

“Did you tell me why we’re here, 
darling? I didn’t attend the meeting, 
you know.” 

“I tried to, but how do I know if 
you listened when you wouldn’t even 
let me see you? If you had remained 
in the ship, as you said! It wouldn’t 
have mattered. Now, we’re spotted!” 

“Maybe not. It doesn’t matter now 
anyway. Hear the call?” 

From the disc on her shoulder or- 



12 


AMAZING STORIES 


nament, and the one hidden in his 
uniform cap, was coming the thin 
scream of summons. They knew what 
the sound meant, though no one but a 
Blade would even have noticed the 
thin, eery vibration, almost inaudible. 

‘‘The Teyna screams !” said Meloa, 
gripping with her hands the strong 
arm of Kal Harn, now leaning sick- 
ened against the balustrade. The at- 
tacker's knees had struck hard and 
deep, leaving agony in the soft kid- 
ney region. 

“They sent us here, to Dornoon. 
Now they summon us back! Some- 
thing has happened. And we have 
learned nothing.” 

“We have learned the Felarnese 
seek our lives. It is much, the 
Blades needed to be sure of that.” 

Meloa still stood over the prone, 
long limbed body of the unconscious 
foreigner, the sap swinging in her 
hand thoughtfully. Kal frowned. 

“Long, long have the rumours 
floated, but it meant little. Now, sud- 
denly, all the little states are split- 
ting off from the Triple Crown, the 
Dom knows not where to turn. All 
falls upon we Blades. We must pin 
down the center from which this 
death purpose flows. Perhaps there 
is no center, but only some madness 
without real plan. Perhaps it is the 
plague, the fear of it, the attempt to 
retreat into isolation and so stem the 
spread of it.” 

Meloa snorted, wrinkling her nose 
in unmaidenly disgust. “You think 
like any babe ! It is the Triple Crown 
they want, and these dissident groups 
are aggravated by false attacks — and 
so are turned against the Dom by 
some plotting group. We will find 
them, and the struggle will cease as 
quickly as it began. The ancient com- 
pact can not fall! The progress of a 
century of peace would be wiped out. 
All will be at the throats of the other 
again, as in the old days. It cannot 


be! Someone must see to that!" 

“You're too optimistic,” said Kal. 
“The Dom is old, and too cunning for 
his own good. He is not trusted, too 
often have his little schemes been ex- 
posed to his discredit. You are prej- 
udiced because the Dom favored you 
with the green star on your Blade in- 
signia, you are blinded by gratitude. 
This struggle will not cease while 
he lives.” 

“There are grievances, true. But 
not serious, nor really worth their 
lives !” 

“Freedom can seem worth many 
lives, and long have these Felarnese 
wanted rule by a family of their own 
blood, their own race. He fended 
them off with his cousins, with the 
Green Wing of the Tal— and they 
hate the Tal, even if the Wing is 
beautiful, she can never win them 
over truly.” 

“Stand here, when the bird of war 
screams from our discs! This traitor 
stirs, we have to leave or deal with 
him." 

The pair moved off toward the 
door, even as the man on the floor 
lifted his head, his face rapt with 
thought. He had overheard and un- 
derstood where it was they went, and 
who they were. He had been told only 
to kill the man, now two were to be 
dealt with. Well, it was news the 
Blades considered the Tal of their 
own party! The fools! 

• f ' I >*- & 

^ > v T* V 

V ANUE'S VOICE blended with 
the skirl of the Sendai dance 
music from the pipes of the revelers, 
as she murmured: 

“Note, Mion, how the thoughts of 
these peoples turn to struggle as the 
serpent tide of oncoming space dust 
thickens about their worlds . The 
fangs of the serpent head only touch 
the five planets, and already the once 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


13 


unified races split and prepare for 
struggle. Kind against kind, mind 
against mind — the dis-illusion strikes 
error deep into all the thought pat- 
tern. Death-dealing WAR only can 
come of their thought, for such is the 
error ! Magnetically the splitting of 
all the planned unity occurs even as it 
is pictured in the mind screens within 
the brains ignorant of the cause of 
such thoughts. It is simple when one 
observes afar as we are doing, but it is 
impossible to avoid the error when the 
mind itself and those of all about suf- 
fer from the sundering repellant mag- 
netism from the ions of decay 
brought by the flow from space” 

Mion scarce heard the voice of her, 
blending as it did with the scene 
through which the two Blades 
pushed, angling toward the far bottle- 
neck where the crystal-clear dome of 
the Keep gave on the air-locks that 
kept ouf of the cold of the sunless 
world. 

l^AL HARN followed close on the 
heels of the tall lithe girl; Ama- 
zon-strong gleaming-sheathed in 
smooth green syntha-skin. 

Kal tried hard to avoid contact 
with the untainted bodies about him, 
keeping the stricken arm under his 
cloak, letting the girl ahead make 
path. The fear of giving the plague, 
etched his face with lines of worry. 
None knew the cause or how it 
spread. Only they knew that remorse- 
lessly it struck — 

After the two darted the tall, lean, 
dark-faced Felarn spy, his whole ap- 
pearance foreign here among the 
blue-haired Nines, off-shoot as they 
were of Meloa’s own race of Node. He 
must not lose sight! Freedom from 
the Dom, independence for his race — 
hung upon letting no Blade move un- 
attended. Had not the Green Wing 
promised? The Cranes would not fail 


her. They could not, once that ally 
was lost, only defeat would be theirs! 

Kal Harn, head turning constantly 
to avoid contact, caught a glimpse of 
the dark, intent face. He whirled, 
leaped, drew back his arm. His fist 
lashed out, landing high on the 
swarthy cheek-bone. The man stag- 
gered. Kal brought his right up from 
the ground, but the spy swayed 
easily outside, and came back with 
two swift blows to his face, blinding 
Kal. 

Kal gave him elbows, to keep him 
off till his eyes cleared. The angry 
plague spot on his arm throbbed pain- 
fully, reminding him he might be 
dooming this man to the same fate — 
but he buried the thought. The spy 
brought up a knee that found the pit 
of his stomach. Harn reeled back, and 
the man’s fist crashed again and 
again to his face in swift fury. Then, 
he saw again clearty, and blocked a 
blow, catching it on the palm of his 
hand. He feinted with his left, the 
arm that hurt now terribly. The spy 
ducked the expected blow, and Harn 
blasted his right to the jaw with 
everything he had. The bones seemed 
to give, the man crumpled, caught 
himself, sagged to one knee, holding 
his face. Merciless, Kal slugged him 
twice on the temple and he sprawled 
unconscious. Kal stood there, nursing 
his bleeding knuckles. 

He hated that throbbing spot on his 
arm. Why, why, he wondered? Why 
death for the Blades? Just what did 
the Felarnese mean by following, by 
attacking a Blade? One would have 
thought the man would have given 
up after the first attempt failed. 
They must have been given orders to 
kill or follow to destination all 
Blades — to follow until they knew 
where they could be found by a force 
sufficient to kill them. But what did 
they expect to gain by killing a few 
Blades? They were too many for 


14 


AMAZING STORIES 


such tactics to eliminate them soon 
enough to save the Felarnese from 
their vengeance. Kal shrugged the 
problem off as Meloa tugged at his 
sleeve. 

CHAPTER TWO 

O UTSIDE THE Keep, the still 
stars blazed afar, the naked rock 
reared black and stark, streaked with 
the silver of ancient ice unmelted. 

Kal and Meloa ran in long leaps, 
their muscles were strained in the 
gravity of Gran Jac, as were all the 
Blades during their youth, The grav- 
ity of this lesser satellite Dornoon 
was slight compared to that of Gran 

Jac or even of Node. 

On the left, in the sky, the vast 
black round that was Gran Jac hung 
like the mysterious home of giants 
of the darkness that it was. A tremen- 
dous round scarred shield, dotted 
here and there with the great dull 
red gems that were the cities of the 

giant men of Gran Jac. 

Beside Gran Jac moved visibly the 
tiny brilliant marble that was Felarn, 
rapid in its orbit, and farther on the 
broad sweet green round of Node, 
gemmed with the sapphires that were 
cities, and hung about with the gold- 
en rayed fires of the heat spheres. 
The other satellite of Gran Jac was 
hidden by the bulk of Dornoon be- 
neath their feet. 

In his heart, Kal felt a swift pulse 
of longing for the sweet air of Node, 
cleaned as it was by the white leaves 
of the pale trees that grew there only. 

For Node, the mother of both the 
Nines and the Nodes, had long ago 
been warmed by the heat spheres set 
aswing above her by the father of 
science. 

Node alone had natural air and 
plants, unlike the more backward 
Gran Jac and the satellites. 

The secret of powering the heat 


spheres had been kept by the ancient 
Doms of Node. One more rankling 
issue— that secret— perhaps the para- 
mount cause of the recent turbulence. 

Even as Kal stared up nostalgically 
at the dim green glow of Node, the 
weakness struck him! 

He fell, cracking his head globe 
against the black rocks. Meloa, with 
no time to think, for air gushed in- 
stantly from the long fissure in the 
plastic, picked him up in her two 
arms and ran on, hardly missing a 
stride. His weight was no great bur- 
den here. 

Frantically she turned the dial set 
in the round lock face of the space. 
Bundled Harn in, swung shut the 
heavy metal, snapped the dogs, pulled 
down the air lever. Unscrewed his 
broken head-piece, threw it aside, 
raised his head: 

“Kal, speak! Speak to me, darling l” 
Listening for his breath, faint it 
was and weak, but stronger breath 
by breath. He sighed, moved his 
stricken arm. 

“I've got to take off, Kal,” panted 
Meloa. “There may be others, now 
that they know us. Only the carnival 
law forbidding weapons saved us. I'll 
strap you in. We have to report, and 
then you’re for the Med-center.” 

Kal struggled to his feet with her 
help, staggered to his acceleration 
cradle, lay half unconscious while 
she strapped him. in, pneumo-pads 
tight about him. 

“Meloa, I’m done. I don’t like the 
outlook, better it might be if you 
turned in your Blade sign. Give up 
your commission — return to your 
home. There is some vile mystery 
about this sudden rising of the Clans, 
of the Felarnese, of the Gran Jac Ul- 
timatum to the Dom. He cannot win, 
and only a fool, gives allegiance to 
a fool. How the Dom got himself 'into 
this, I know not, nor how he can re- 
trieve anything. Get out, while there 


15 


WE DANCE 

is time! I cannot help you!” 

Meloa touched his hot face with 
the tips of her fingers. “Don’t think 
of it, Kal. Forget the struggle and 
get well. I will do what seems best.” 

“I don’t trust the Dom, long ago I 
learned that about him that is not to 
oe mentioned. Long as I have served 
him loyally, still I have always known 
there was reason to doubt him.” 

Kal tried to go on talking, but his 
voice trailed off weakly, his eyes 
closed. Meloa darted forward to the 
controls, snapped the pads tight about 
the pilot seat, pulled back the throt- 
tle. The center jet roared, the black 
dark outside was lashed with a great 
whip of glaring yellow light as the 
little ship curved steeply up, swung 
in a long turn and arrowed away to- 
ward the gemmed green disc of dis- 
tant Node. 

* * * 

gENEATH THE Palace of the Tri- 
ple Dome, there was a retreat 
known to few, built centuries ago by 
the first Dom of Node. Cut from the 
solid rose-granite on which the three 
towers rested, a long low-arching tun- 
nel of a room, the harsh rock yet un- 
softened even by the spilled luxury 
of furs and hung tapestrys. The soft 
body of the old Dom was ill at ease, 
always, here. 

It was a warrior’s room, and the 
Dom was no warrior, the blood of the 
Dorns had run thin long ago. If, in 
truth, he was of the Blood. Even that 
had been whispered of him. 

He sat, wearily turning the pages 
of a worn leather-bound volume, 
listening to the increasing stir with a 
worried ear. Sounds from the palace 
chambers above were brought down 
here by a speaking tube, cunningly 
contrived to augment even a whisper 
to audible volume. Many a secret plot 
he had spied upon from this place, 


OR THE DOM 

with his ears only, given thus power 
to hear in all the important rooms of 
the palace. 

The time was almost at hand, and 
he must reveal to these simple-minded 
followers of his the truth of their 
predicament. Would they retain their 
ancient loyalty, or turn and flee, leav- 
ing him defenseless to face the long- 
gathering wrath? 

Idly his still-bright eyes ran over 
the dull type, reading : 

For an age the black skinned giant 
iace of Gran Jac held all dominance, 
all rule, over the five planets. And no 
man knows how long this was true, 
for the giants destroyed the written 
records of the smaller races of the sat- 
ellites. But in those days, every city 
dome raised its own food, the warmth 
provided by localized fires from local 
power sources. Even oil and coal were 
brought and burned, even into his- 
toric times this work of mankind was 
paramount, mining fuel and raising 
food kept the energies of man di- 
rected only to the creating of gardens 
that they might live. And the great 
size of Gran Jac races made them un- 
equaled in battle, and a harsh rule 
they exercised— taking the little peo- 
ple off to the great domes of Gran 
Jac to labor or to die. And many did 
die, before their muscles hardened to 
the great weight of the planet. 

Then, after all that dark time, came 
the man named Enuj Ra, who inge- 
niously created the first fire-globe of 
undying warmth, and set it aswing 
above the dead cold round of his 
planet, our own mother Node. At 
first the men of Gran Jac laughed at 
the pretty toy, but the people of Node, 
overjoyed at the possibilities, helped 
Enuj Ra create more and bigger fire- 
globes and tow them into their orbits 
above Node. Gradually the warmth 
spread, the air became atmosphere in- 
stead of ice, plants began to appear 
—and the men of Gran Jac came to 


16 


AMAZING STORIES 


superintend the planting of the whole 

planet for their food. 

But Enuj Ra was proven truly a ge- 
nius, then. He hid himself away, and 
upon the arrival of the great ships 
of Gran Jac, he turned the master 
switch, and each fire globe went in- 
stantly out, in the sky above. Raging 
were the giants to learn that no food 
would they get from the new power 
unless Node was given freedom. 
Searching and tumult filled Node, as 
they sought out the genius— but find 

him they did not. . .” 

“Enuj Ra,” murmured the Dom. “If 
your shade had the power, he could 
do another good turn tonight. 

C ALMLY THE old Dorn, of the 
blood of Enuj Ra himself, read 
on. Overhead the muffled sound of 
the gathering grew, and his ears 
counted the slow sound of the chro- 
nodisc gear. 

“Thus by secrecy insuring the dom- 
inance of the people of Node ovei 
all races of the five planets, having in 
his hands complete control over the 
new and so-needtd food supply, Enuj 
Ra bided his time. Ten cycles of 
fruitful food production must go by, 
the multiplying mouths fed by the 
new abundance must grow into man- 
hood. Enuj Ra waited, and at the 
proper time, dominance was assured 
because all the races of the five 
planets must have the food that Node 
produced. Then Enuj Ra again shut 
off the power of the fire-globes, and 
announced that unless a treaty ac- 
cepted and favorable to all of the 
five planets was agreed upon by the 
giant blacks of Gran Jac— there 
v/ould be no more food from Node. 

Thus our great forebear brought 
about the existance of the Triple 
Crown, based upon the possession of 
the food supply by Node, and since 
that day no military action has been 


taken without the signature of the 
regnant Dom of Node. . .” 

The old man sighed, put up the 
worn volume. He took up the Triple 
Crown from where it blazed green 
and gold upon a pillow of scarlet, and 
set it on his greying head. He took up 
the gold crook, set with the sign of 
the Teyna, the ancient bird of war of 
Node. He muttered: 

“Now must I tell them that the day 
of peace is past, and our hold upon 
the life-line, the bread and fruit of 
the five planets — is broken and gone, 
and again the men of Node must ac- 
cept the slave collars of the men of 
Gran Jac.” 

He stood for a time, gazing into a 
gaping burnt place in the solid stone 
of the wall. Short nads ago, one turn- 
ing of Gran Jac upon its axis — that 
hole had been a door of ancient im- 
permeable metal, inviolate, shielding 
with its unsolvable locking dials the 
formulas of the Fire Globe, just as 
they had been placed there by the 
dying Enuj Ra. 

“Which of those I have welcomed 
here, could it have been?” muttered 
the Dom, touching the ragged frag- 
ments of burnt metal and splintered 
rock. “There were but four knew 
what it contained. My two sons, Reb 
Ra and Naj Ra, they are on Gran Jac, 
at the training schools. That leaves 
two — The Green Star and the Green 
Wing of the Dal. Brother and sister- 
heirs by blood — what advantage 
would they win in possessing the se- 
cret? Do they desire this crown so 
much they would plunge the four les- 
ser planets again into slavery to the 
giant men? What could Gran Jac of- 
fer them, greater than they have? 
Some value beyond my thinking. . . 
The old man moved on, to face his 
followers. 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


17 


VOICE of Vanue, saying in 
that more than human warmth 
that was hers above all others: 

“Note that in the past there was 
struggle and war , that the cause of its 
cessation has seemed to be a treaty 
brought about by pressure on the 
greatest need in life — food . 

“Yet, in truth, there must have been 
in that earlier time another tide of 
disintegrant force ions, and that 
tide 9 s ending coincided with events 
tht brought about peace . That peace 
has lasted until in the circling cur- 
rents, the log serpent-tide of Dee 
touches the five planets once again . 
Now events and their reactions inter- 
pret to their again distorted errant 
mind patterns only to mean — war! 99 

Mion nodded . “Yes, the pattern is 
directly opposite! If the cause of 
their war was real and logical, it 
would have been started by Enuj Ra’s 
denial of their right to the new power 
and warmth — yet, contrarily, peace 
resulted . Now, in this new advent of 
the tide of Dee, the publicizing of 
the formulas so that all the five 
planets may enjoy the warmth of the 
heat-spheres, that seem to them cause 
for new warfare springing up among 
them. In reality, it should make for 
peace, since it will reduce the pres- 
sure of necessity and bring about 
greater plenty for all of them if new 
areas are brought into food produc- 
tion” 

“Thus is always the face of error, 
illogic setting forth as logic, and 
finding acceptance . . ” 

Vanue 9 s voice, when it ceased, left 
always a poignant longing for yet an- 
other and another sound of its beauty. 

Mion’s eyes and ears tore their at- 
tention from the brief, intense delight 
of Vanue 9 s self, from the ringing, 
thrilling sound and dizzying sight oi 
her too-great life. He bent again to 
the thought cloud, where that other 


world of color and light and life was 
again displaying a new facet. 

'T'HE GREEN WING, Queen of 
the Tal, greatest of the clans of 
the Nines, swept across the ball-room 
on the arm of Verde Cire, the Genode 
of all the Blades. The two Teyna 
wings, dyed green, ancient symbol of 
the leaders of the Tal, spread proud 
and high above her nobly chiseled 
head. 

Unlike the races of the Nodes, her 
skin was only faintly gold, and her 
hair so pale a blue as to gleam like 
silver — falling to her shoulders in me- 
tallic waves, there caught in a net of 
emeralds. Beneath the emerald mesh, 
her pale shoulders glittered with a 
fine dusting of metal powder. Her 
high proud breasts thrust from a nest 
of small green feathers, feathers that 
sheathed the strong arches of her 
hips and swept downward to end at 
her feet in long fronds. A wide leath- 
ern belt, worked over with the Dal 
symbols of the trident crossed on a 
blade set between the two wings, 
circled her waist. Her feet were cased 
in open-work gold leather sandals. 
She danced with a sleepy indolent 
grace, seeming to hold the tall Verde 
stiff with awe and worship of her. 

The lesser lights of the Blade or- 
ganization danced too, seeming to 
leave always a circle inviolate where 
the Green Wing and their own ap- 
pointed head, Verde Cire, danced as 
alone upon the floor. 

Or they clustered in small whis- 
pering groups, their faces intent and 
thoughtful, unmindful of the setting 
for gayety. Thus it was not a ball, so 
much as a necessary prelude to some- 
thing far more important than danc- 
ing — and some occupied their feet 
with the dance, but only that time 
might pass. 

The musicians, nested in a great 
couch slightly screened by the pale 


18 AMAZING 

frond* of the white fern, played 
muted, *oft melodies of love and indo- 
lence, seeming to wait too, holding in 
all exuberance, as if the occasion was 
too funereal to let joy flow from the 
long golden horns, or humming harp 
to rise to triumph above human 
thought, or drum to beat too loudly 
and so distract the coming event with 
unseemly noise. 

The Dom, peering out from hi3 
peep-hole behind the rostrum under 
the white fern, felt the waiting and 
the worry, knew that some word had 
fpread— that all there waited for 
something like a death. 

But the Enode had struck moments 
ago, and the Dom stepped up to the 
main dais and held up his hand. 

The music ceased, the dancers stood 

in their places, and silence fell. 

Expectant, somehow grotesque and 
faintly horrible silence. 

All eyes centered on the withered, 
weary, but still cunning-eyed and 
quick-handed Dom. The eyes roved 
from his goodly, gold chain draped 
paunch to his wide stooped shoulders 
and gloomy face — and then politely 
looked elsewhere, waiting. Or ex- 
amined the embroidery, rich on the 
wide sleeves, or speculated on the 
meaning of the cryptic symbols bor- 
dering. his wide collar — and did not 
look twice at his face. 

“My countrymen, you who have 
been chosen from among the finest 
of the young Nodes, trained and made 
ready for long years for the tasks the 
future might bring— My own brave 
Blades, I have to tell you that the 
greater task has come. The time is 
NOW — our Fate is upon us!” 

He stopped, and his little cunning 
eyes swept here and there, looking xor 
effect, waiting for question, estimat- 
ing, putting off . . . Then he pursed 
his lips, bent forward, gripped the 
sides of the flat-topped rostrum, and 


STORIES 

in a shrill whisper that broke in his 

throat yet went on audibly . 

“The ancient formula of the heat- 
sphere has been raped from its shrine, 
the power is gone from the race of 

the Node !” 

F OR MOMENTS the silence grew, 
until no sound but slow tension 
rising could be heard. A slow increas- 
ing rustle, as of wind, of breath 
caught and slowly released against the 
will, grew until the swift whispering 
murmurs broke forth, then the Dom 
raised his narrow red hand again. 

“The task you have been trained 
for is now upon you! Recover the 
secret before all power is gone from 
the Node, before once again our race 
is in thrall to a greater, made to 
serve and to slave and to be never 
free again!” 

The Dom now turned his eyes upon 
the Green Wing, where she stood 
close before the rostrum, where he 
had purposely halted the dance that 
she would be caught there before him. 

“Only two beside myself upon all 
our globe knew where the plates of 
the secret formula were kept. Those 
two were the Green Wing and the 
Green Star of the Tal Clan ! 

The old man stepped back, deliv- 
ered of his shaft, to watch the effect. 

As if propelled by a spring, the 
Green Wing swirled feather light to 
the rostrum, sprang upon the dais be- 
hind, faced the startled, accusing faces 
of the Blades. 

“Your old Dom does not know of 
what he speaks. Think you Gran Jac 
has waited without effort all these 
long nads, waited for lifetimes— with- 
out sending even one hireling spy to 
seek out our secret? Nay, it is no time 
to turn accusing our friends, to set 
our own blood against blood. Time 
instead to test the temper of our 

Blades in action!” 

The Wing paused, gazed for an in- 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


19 


stant at the old Dom as if weighing 
his utter worthlessness — then went 
on. Meloa, entering from the dark- 
ness heard her, and marveled at her 
manner, for she suspected very 
strongly she was behind the Felarnese 
activity, felt that she was plotting 
treason against them all... yet one 
would think she herself was the very 
heart-blood of loyalty and honor. 

“We must use our strength now, to 
make our future more secure than 
any hidden paper and old man’s poli- 
tical manouevering ever made it se- 
cure. Enuj Ra could well have been 
the death of every soul on Node 
when he denied the formulas to the 
Blacks of Gran Jac! But we were 
lucky, and they were condescending 
and lenient, let us have our way. They 
gave us our chance, and it is not dead 
because some thief in the night broke 
an ancient safe-box! We are alive and 
free, let us make the most of it, swift 
and sure welding all the clans, all 
our might — into one strong weapon, 
picking out the joint in the armor of 
our rising adversity and striking deep 
to the heart, now! Before the thought 
of our fall becomes reality, and our 
own fears make us slave!” 

Her high, keen thrilling voice fell 
from very effort to a husky, throaty, 
persuasiveness as she went on: 

“Listen to the Dom, bow down to 
the Triple Crown, and fail to take 
the immediate action necessary. All 
will then be lost, as Your Dom ex- 
pects already. It is no time to listen 
to words of defeat and fright and in- 
decision! It is no time to turn the 
Blades against the Tal, we are one 
blood. We are knit by ties too great 
to sunder with one word of accusa- 
tion!” 

Meloa, shoving forward, shouted 
clear above the rising tumult : 

“Let the Dom speak, let us hear 
first his purpose. No treason without 
cause ! M 


r T , HE DOM, feeling impotent and a 

little ridiculous, and sure that his 
suspicion of the Wing and the Tal 
was the result of an aging brain, 
stepped forward close beside the 
quivering, angrily trembling gown of 
green feathers. As the silence fell, 
he spoke, his eyes upon the flushed 
lovely face of his cousin. 

“What could the Gran Jac offer 
the Tal that we can not offer? 
— That was my thought when suspi- 
cion in my old mind turned to the 
Green Wing and her brother, the 
Star of the Tal. Do they want the 
Triple Crown enough to barter the 
freedom of us all for the bauble?” 

The old man eyed the Green Wing, 
and the still mass of faces, his eyes 
holding an infinite depth, a strange 
sensation of hidden nobility of pur- 
pose passed from him to each one. 

“Even if that is true, there is a so- 
lution! I do not think it is true, and 
from this day it must never be con- 
sidered true by any of us. Wheth- 
er her brother or herself has had a 
hand in this thievery I very much 
doubt — they would not be here. But, 
that there may be nothing dear to 
them with-held by us, that they may 
be bound to us indisolubly — their own 
fate linked inextricably to our own- 
in full appreciation of their value to 
all of us as the leaders they unques- 
tionably are— to hold them forever 
firm in their intelligence I give what 
is most precious to myself and I hope 
to all here tonight, The Triple 
Crown !” 

So saying, hardly knowing how or 
why he did this deed, but feeling that 
he was utterly unprepared to meet 
* the crisis, the old man lifted the 
green-gemmed triple ring of gleam- 
ing gold from his head, and with 
every grace in the motion, set it upon 
the blue-silver hair of the Green 
Wing! It rested there above her as- 


20 


AMAZING STORIES 


tounded face as if wholly made for 
her — and a deep sigh went up from 
all present — a sigh of strange and 
mingled emotions. 

“I am an old man, cousin. You are 
young and brilliant, your abilities 
have been demonstrated over and 
over. Men will follow and obey you 
without question. I have long thought 
upon this act, and now the act is 
forced upon me, if the good of all is 
to be served. Rule for that ideal, the 
good of all, even as Enuj Ra worked 
and ruled — and avert this coming 
blood-shed !” 

The Green Wing, her voice low 
and bemused with effort to under- 
stand the reasons behind the act, mur- 
mured: 

“My brother, and your two sons, 
all set aside — in my favor? Why? 
Why, Naja Ra, do you do this thing 
to yourself and to the rightful heirs ?” 

“Because tonight, if ever it was in 
my life, my vision is clear and my 
thought uncorrupted. You are the life 
shaped to the need that arises before 
us. Later when the trouble is past and 
forgotten, then can the rightful pos- 
session be discussed at law, until all 
are weary enough of the problem to 
accept the judgment. Just now, we 
need your vital accurate thought, 
your instant decision, action directed 
completely toward the heart of the 
trouble. I have made my own action 
in that direction, for I myself have 
been the unwitting cause of some dis- 
sension among us. You can draw the 
clans into one, draw the Nodes to the 
Nines, and lash them into action be- 
side the Tal. Court the favor of the 
Felarnese, and spend hours making 
jokes with the Genpoint of the Gran 
Jac legions. Be a Monarch, toy with 
these war-mongering sons of perdi- 
ton, and so doing weld the five worlds 
again into one !” 


CHAPTER III 

It^fELOA T left the Three Towered 
* Dome with strange emotions and 
angers mingling, fit to choke her. 
How could that young too-beautiful 
minx hope to hold the reins of the 
Blades, the fierce Tal clans, the con- 
flicting groups of both the Nines and 
the Nodes, and still court the Felar- 
nese from their ancient and now again 
active enmity? The old Dom, whom 
she understood and loved, must have 
lost his wits, been distracted by her 
beauty and vitality, been childishly 
influenced by an old man's whim. 

But she had her mission, and her 
loyality was to the Triple Crown, 
whoever wore it. If the Dom thought 
the Green Wing capable, and it meant 
the death or defeat of them all — 
there was nothing she could do about 
it now. 

Outside the warm air of the dome, 
the soft night of Node closed down 
chill, the warmth of the floating heat- 
spheres was shut down to minimum, 
the temperature fallen to below com- 
fort. The leaves of the pale trees were 
folded like buds against the cold. The 
tame cats of Node wailed among the 
trees, mating and fighting and sound- 
ing like ghouls arguing over a corpse. 

Meloa shivered, sped along to tile 
speedy Blade guard-ship that was her 
personal charge now — with Kal Harn 
sick to death in the medical dome. 

About her slim waist was now a 
strong band of plain leather, and in 
the scabbard close riveted to the belt 
hung a flame-blade, incongruous in 
its grim efficient deadliness against 
her soft curved thigh. War hung 
above them all, and the day when 
weapons were forgotten or ignored 
was gone. 

All that practice the Blades had 
regarded as play without ever expect- 
ing any genuine need — now Meloa 


21 


WE DANCE 

knew it had not been play, but needed 
preparation for disaster. 

The ship lifted, swung in a short 
arc, blasted close beneath a softly 
glowing heat globe, powered with the 
same mysterious, self-fueling, ex- 
haustless mystery of science as the 
flame-blade against her waist. This 

was the Blades one great advantage 

they had the flame blade, and no 
sword ever built could stand against 
the steel-melting flame the old Enuj 

Ra had given their race against all 
others. 

Even the Nines and the Tal had not 
the flame-blades. Idly Meloa won- 
dered what would be done about that 
if they allied against— perhaps the 
giants of Gran Jac themselves could 
not face the flame-blades. It was not 
yet known, they had never been used 
in a major conflict. . 

The old Dorn had killed any possi- 
bility of war between the Tal and the 
Nodes. Remained the Nines, the Fel- 
arnese and the terrific strength of the 
giant Gran Jac race of blacks. With 
the Tal and the Nodes welded by the 
Green Wings double identity as he- 
reditary Queen of the Tal, and as 
selected Dom of the Nodes — would 
they act now concertedly to oppose 
them before they grew yet greater? 

The ship burned across the cold sky 
toward the giant dull sheen of the 
Gran Jac. ‘Meloa to Gran Jac, to the 
Temple itself and learn there, what 
was intended and what was prophe- 
cied' were her orders. 

She settled softly, jets silent, be- 
tween the tv/o great bulks of Mt 
Malor and Mt. Rale. Left her ship in 
the ever-shadow of a crevice. Crept 
act oss the ragged rock face to level 
going— swung in a long stride to- 
ward the great dome of the old City 
of the Temple of the Way. 

CTRANGE religion, these giants, 
mused Meloa. Believed that a 


FOR THE DOM 

body had a soul and the souls went to 
a grey place of mists after death! 
That a grey King ruled there, still 
and all-knowing, among the drifting 
shades of his subjects. His Queen was 
supposed to be black as a carbon 
electrode, and to sit motionless be- 
side him— forever. Both alive only in 
the mind, the Palace of their Thought 

where they welcomed the souls of 
the dead! 

Within the ancient, weathered face 
of the Temple within the Dome, was 
a hole in the great natural rock over 
which the temple had been built long 
ago. This hole was said to be the only 
existant portal to the Land of Death 
from the Land of Life. 

And the only exit from the Land 
of Death ! 

Once each Dan, thirty cycles apait 
—a being came from the black hole 
and told them of the future of the 
black race of Gran Jac. And returned 
again to the Land of the Dead. 

Meloa shrugged, smiling a little at 
the giant’s belief in anything so ridi- 
culous and gloomy. 

But the giant race invariably ful- 
filled the prophecy. Whether by coin- 
cidence or because of belief causing 
implicit carrying out of the prophecy 
as an order— one could pretty well 
gauge the future activity*of the Gran 
Jac giants by listening with care to 

the oracle of the Temple of the Gate- 
way. 

Meloa meant to hear it, and it re- 
turned again in two nads,— ti me left 
now only to get there and make a way 
within the Temple, with luck. She 
must not miss the oracle, or the Gran 
Jacs might act before the new Dom 
learned of Its import. 

If the oracle said war, war it would 
be, whether they had enemies to fight 
01 had to attack some friend. It was 
only recent times the Oracle had 
prophecied peace. Since Enuj Ra had 
stymied them and made the priests 




22 


AMAZING STORIES 



of the Temple see the light behind the 
Heat-spheres, Meloa reasoned. 

She eased up to the ten foot round 
of the corroded metal of the air- oc r . 
Nervously she fingered her helmet 
lugs, she wanted to get it off and 
grin at the big nine-foot black guard 
she knew waited inside. He. could be 
a trouble, or he could be friendly and 
ignoring of formalities. There was no 
time for checking of credentials, 
though she had them all in order. 

With a vast hiss of air, the big 
round twisted sidewards, she slipped 
through the widening slot quickly, 
tugged off the lugs, threw back her 
already steaming helmet. She smiled 
her best smile at the wide, sullenly in- 
scrutable face of the giant, and after a 
second, the infectious gayety of her 
youth struck home, and he grinned. 
The huge teeth of him startled Meloa, 
she had not been on Gran Jac for near 
a dan. Fierce, homely people, they 
were good hearted enough ordinarily, 

but terrible in anger. 

“Here for the opening of the 

Way?” 

“Aye, big one, I must see the path 
I will tread when I get as homely as 
you, and die for shame of it!” Meloa 
purred the jest and taunt in her best 
Gran Jac jargon, a tongue with little 
in common with her own. 

His smile disappeared for an in- 
stant, then he saw that she meant the 
impossible, for such a beauty was not 

passing here every day. 

“When you get as homely as my- 
self, the world will have decayed 
about us into mist, little butterfly. If 
you must wait to that day, you will 

never die.” 

“Perhaps I am the shade of some 
dead woman, returning to entei along 
the way when it opens for the sooth 

of the Day of Truth.” 

His face sobered again, and he 

looked at her closely, and over his 

shoulder fearfully. 


“Do not jest, little Blade, the ears 
of the men who serve the way are 
never closed. You are no shade, but 
flesh and blood. Get on with you, and 
on your return, tell me of the word. 


M ELOA pushed Open the inner 
door, sliding it silently in its 
ancient worn grooves, her heart beat- 
ing thanks that no Ware orders had 
gone out. Evidently the big race had 
taken the rumours of trouble as froth 
and nonsense, or had already the 
secret firmly in their hands and 
feared no event. 

Along the wide, gloomy streets she 
padded rapidly, avoiding contact with 
the great-bodied natives. Her cloak 
hid the flame-blade as it had hid it 
from the guard, but a touch would 
reveal it. Not that it wasn’t legal, as 
their agreements went. But not tonad, 
of all nads, would one wear weapon 
but for fear of ones deed finding one 

out. 

Into the vast doorway of the Tem- 
ple of the Portal of Death. Past the 
gloomy swathed forms of the stone 
“watchers”, past the gigantic mount- 
ed figure of the First Warrior King. 
Under the Arch of the Tortured Cap- 
tives, their writhing forms of stone 
wreathing up and around in one sym- 
phony of sculptured pain and ugly 
triumph. Along the Corridor of Si- 
lence, where the little green-lit wall 
niches held the Nee candles, burning 
with sweet fragrance, and the tiny 
witched images of the lost Elves. 

Then she was around the two tall 
armed guardians of the portal of the 
Chamber of the Way, and among the 
silent gigantic figures of the waiting 
black worshippers. Eagerly she 
slipped forward past the columnar 
legs, making her way almost to the 
throne where the Genpoint himself 
waited on his throne of black ada- 
mant, set with blood rubys in the an- 
cient skull pattern of the Gens alone. 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


23 


The throne faced the thirty foot 
ragged rock opening where the empty 
round well slanted steeply from the 
rugged slope of natural rock against 
which the temple had been erected. 

The Opening of the Way was al- 
most due, she had cut the time shorter 
than she intended. The blackness of 
the depths of the pit within the 
jagged round of the cave mouth was 
already adrift with subtle grey 
streamers of mist — which always pre- 
ceded the approach of the Ghost from 
the world of beyond. 

The awe and the conveyed implicit 
belief of these giant people in their 
cavern ghost struck through the ar- 
mor of unbelief shielding Meloa from 
fear of the coming spirit, and for a 
moment she was sure she was wrong. 
Sure that a living ghost from the 
land of the dead was really about to 
appear ! 

The drifting mist began to circle 
slowly, centering in a kind of grey 
whirlpool, and the funneling center of 
the whirl deeped to a long tunnel, a 
tunnel suggesting infinite depth, and 
as subtle and no less infinite, a 
sinister peril. 

Far, far off a figure appeared, 
visible only through the center of the 
web of mist — and the figure grew 
swiftly as if rushing like the wind 
from distances too vast for mortal 
mind to grasp. 

Meloa wondered if . it were not 
mirror tricks by those who held the 
giant race in thrall to their wits? 
Wondered, too, fearfully and simply 
if this were not the truth— a visita- 
tion from the world beyond all death ! 

Q UITE suddenly the web of mist 
was blasted as by terrific power, 
swept invisibly aside, and standing 
there at the center of the rugged cir- 
cle of age-worn rock facets was a tall, 
thin-robed greyness. 

The bone-thing face was grey of 


skin, the long too articulate hands 
were surely only grey bones... 

Woman or man, Meloa couldn't 
know surely. Only that it was death, 
incarnate, terrible, she shuddered 
away from her first view of the Open- 
ing of the Way! 

The fear of the awful reality of 
death and life-beyond-death yet more 
horrible than death itself struck into 
Meloa’s young mind. She tottered as 
any girl might do, fell suddenly into 
the dark vortice of unconsciousness — 
a fainting spell which all her train- 
ing and hardening and experienced 
will jcould not fight off. 

What happened then she did not 
see or know, but it was not good. 

As her falling body struck the 
rough grey stone of the floor, her 
cape fell aside, and even as her flame- 
blade was revealed to the startled, 
back-pushing giants near her — the 
twisting handle released the terrible 
power of the pale flame! 

The flame lanced out in a long 
deadly path of terrific heat. The 
force shield of the handle coils pro- 
tected Meloa’s body. But it did not 
protect the feet of the giants beside 
her, and they leaped and screamed and 
bellowed as the flame reached among 
them, moving in an arc of twenty feet 
at the tip of the lance of fire as 
Meloa’s body settled and rolled over. 

Then both fallen girl and burning 
blade lay there, eclipsing entirely the 
gloomy glory of the grey shade from 
beyond the edge of life. 

As that blade burned ; burned there 
in the Temple where no weapon was 
ever allowed to be borne, and upon 
the body of an alien and a guest of 
trust — the anger of the giant Gen- 
point on his throne was terrible to 
see. 

His voice did not dare to speak out 
his anger, for it was time and more 
for the words of the sacred oracle 
standing there about to speak ! 


24 


AMAZING STORIES 


But his anger could find vent, a 
vent acceptable to the Lord of Death- 
land himself I 

The Genpoint got to his feet, gigan- 
tic even among those giants, a ten 
footer of incredible musculature 
among even this race adjusted to a 
life upon a dense and large planet. 

Fiercely, silently, moving with the 
burning force of rage — his violated 
sanctuary and his insulted emissary 
from the Grey Land of Death watch- 
ing him — he bent, shut off the flame, 
picked up the body of the uncon- 
scious girl. As his assembled people 
gasped he bore the slight drooping 
figure to the very mouth of the dread 
cavern. There he lay her at the feet 
of the waiting agent of death and 
bowed to the very floor, asking par- 
don with the ancient gestures that 
are used where no man dare speak. 

Silence, filled with the sense of 
justice swift and entire. The tall thin 
greyness began then to speak, the 
terrific meaning of the ancient words 
from the back of time rolled out over 
the Chamber of the Way into Death. 

Softly the stylus of the Genpoint 
glided over his waxed pad, as he not- 
ed down each character spoken out by 
the oracle. 

The words ended, the grey thin 
terrible death-in-life stooped, plucked 
up the small self of Meloa T, down 
swirled the grey mist of time and 
space and swift distance. The grey 
figure receded down the tunnel of 
grey impossible mist and Meloa was 
gone upon the journey into the land 
of the dead. 

CHAPTER FOUR 

HPHE GREEN Wing smiled as she 
stood to greet the Genpoint of all 
Gran Jac. Himself honoring her with 
this visit to learn the truth about all 
the rumours of war — as well as to 
explain the incident which had caused 


the sending of a member of the 
Blades to the Land of the Unliving. 

Skillfully she led the talk, parry- 
ing his questions even while getting 
answers to her own probing as to the 
plans of the Council of Gran Jac. Of 
his inability to handle her the great 
black warrior was soon well aware, 
his broad ugly face dewed with the 
moisture of effort, his eyes holding 
on hers like a great, beast fascinated 
by the antics of some bright plumaged 
bird. 

sXTANUE’S voice came to Mion 
* faintly , explaining . “Note that 
immediately behind the head of the 
serpent tide the space dust thins and 
almost there is none. Note that the 
portion of the tide of the dis flow 
passing the five planets now is this 
same tenuous portion , and that the 
thin-ness of the tide of dis coincides 
with the suddenly repaired pattern of 
their life. The Dom of Node gene- 
rously gave his crown to the person 
best fitted to receive it, she bends 
every effort to unite the dissident 
nations into one peaceful state, aband- 
oning meanwhile her ill-conceived, 
and treacherous plot to ally the Tal 
clans with the Felarnese, and the gi- 
ants of Gran Jac send a peaceful 
emissary, their own official leader 
appointed by their council — to the 
Nodes, to learn if they can avert war.” 

“I observe the coincidence of the 
subsidence of the dis-tide with the 
subsidence of the war-like activity,” 
answered Mion. 

“Note that the thicker body of the 
serpent tide moves closer to the five 
planets inexorably. Watch how their 
passions and events answer the 
growth of the oncoming flow. Soon 

. they will be swallowed up in the 
body of the serpent, their true 
thought obscured will launch them 
into wars they will be unable to rea- 
son out a way to avoid. It is inevitable 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


25 


that untrained minds should suc- 
cumb to such unseen influences. 9 * 

Vanue turned and touched the now 
sleeping Firko with a caressing fin- 
gertip. He did not awaken, but only 
smiled and murmured her name , slid- 
ing lower on the couch. She pillowed 
his head against her arm , and turned 
the thought spool to a faster tempo. 

The deadly wide body of the ser- 
pent flow of disintegrant dust moved 
now swiftly, swallowing up the five 
planets into the thickness of its body. 

“ What is this Land of the Dead 
into which poor Meloa was taken? 99 
asked Mion. 

“You will see there a strange pair 
indeed . They are abandoned children 
of the past, their inherited science 
enough to keep life in them — not 
enough to keep off other effects of 
De such as you already know about . 
One of them has become a wholly evil 
form of degenerate parasitism, the 
other a passive despairing passenger 
upon the will of Fate, moving no 
finger to halt the course of events. 
Observe them closely, for one day 
you will find within your own body 
the effects of unobserved quantities 
of dis, and that day you will know 
better than to choose flight and iso- 
lation, as this pair did. 99 

Vanue softly turned up the ampli- 
fication, and Mion slipped again into 
the unconscious state of complete 
absorption in the course of events. 

rpHE GENPOINT of all Gran 
Jac strode purposefully through 
the great portal of the three towered 
Palace of the Dom of Node. In his 
hand he held an ultimatum received 
from the Council of the Planet he 
represented, and his face was grim, 
though his heart misgave him. He 
read it through to the Green Wing 
once, then tucked it away in his 
breast. 

The Green Wing waved away the 


three officers of the Blades with 
whom she had been conferring be- 
fore his arrival. They had reported to 
her on the ineffectual effort to re- 
cover or learn the whereabouts of 
the secret of the heat-spheres. 

She stood stiffly, hardly nodding 
to the giant Genpoint, for she knew 
the council was under his thumb and 
this his doing. She could read on his 
face as he read that this was his de- 
cision after his long talks with her, 
and anger flamed within her that all 
her effort to reconcile him had gone 
for nothing. She listened with scant 
attention as he read, her face stony, 
her eyes moving everywhere but to 
his face, again. 

Nov/ the play-talk of the past days 
was over. She guessed that he had 
carried this paper just as it was now 
in his bosom when he first came — had 
now decided to deliver it to her oral- 

iy* 

His words fell gloomy and with a 
dull finality upon her, echoing over 
and over in her mind as if written 
there forever: 

“To the most Honorable Dom, 
Green Wing of the Tal, Queen of all 
the Nodes. It is requested that your 
people must agree to turn over the 
formulas for the warming fire-globes 
without more delay. If you refuse, 
action will be taken by the warrior 
chiefs of the Gran Jac. Too long have 
we humored your people while this 
needed thing was withheld, no more 
can we suffer this evil.” 

There was more, formal signatures, 
directions as to how the formulas 
were to be delivered — 

When he had finished, tucked it 
loosely into his uniform jacket, the 
Green Wing held out her hand, he 
strode with one great step to her 
dais, laid it in her hand. She said: 

“There is no need for this! You 
must know we cannot turn over to you 
what we no longer possess. Why don’t 


26 


AMAZING STORIES 


you help us search for them, if you 
do not already have them?’’ 

The Genpoint recoiled that full 
stride in surprise. Anger and com- 
plete distrust of her strove to cover 
his face, he put them aside visibly. 

“I had decided that the theft of the 
formulas was but a rumour, when your 
worship did not speak of it to me. I 
cannot understand that they are not 
in your possession. How could it 
have occurred here at the center of 
the Blade’s watchfulness?” 

The Green Wing eyed him coldly. 
He did not express contrition for 
nearly calling her a liar. He only 
stood, awaiting the answer to the 
ultimatum from the powers he served, 
and sometimes ruled. 

With an effort she controlled her 
anger, smiled slowly and gestured 
with her hand. 

“If we cannot give you the secret 
of the spheres of heat, how then can 
we avoid war, my noble ambassador?” 

“It would not be a war, small one ! 
It would be too bad, that is all!” 

“Already you slip into the uncouth 
ways of the warrior, insulting me, 
calling me a liar and ‘small one’ — and 
you expect an honorable answer to a 
message such as you bear me. What 
do you really expect — treatment of 
your person that will serve as cause 
for war? The thing has been stolen 
from us, come, I’ll show you the 
vaults.” 

As they stood within the ancient 
lair of the Dorns of old, before the 
blasted vault doors — the Genpoint 
gave her answer: 

“If ever the warriors of Gran Jac 
learn that this has been contrived to 
make fools of us — that day you can 
expect attack. Until then, I will hold 
the dogs of war in leash.” 

He stalked out, and the Green Wing 
sighed with vast relief. She had ex- 
pected the worst. 


ANUE murmured to Mion: 

"Note here how great events 
are controlled by un-noticed influenc- 
es . If they had remained above the 
surface of the earth , the flow of mag- 
netic evil force full about their minds y 
they would have parted in complete 
anger and discord. But they left the 
surface , descended here below the 
rocks where much of the incoming 
magnetism is obstructed and neutra- 
lized by the still unimpregnated rocks 
above the chambers of the Dom — and 
their anger cooled, the Genpoint de- 
parted without deciding upon war.” 

"I note the incident, and the rea- 
son for it” answered Mion. "It was 
not the burst vault alone/* 

CHAPTER FIVE 

ONCATENATION of terrifying 
silent noise; swift, vibrant mo- 
tion of rushing forces soundlessly 
pressing on and on, A terrible emo- 
tion-racking sensation of death from 
the thing that bore her. , . 

Meloa awoke to find herself frozen 
in the weird embrace of that which 
could not be, but was. Frozen, mo- 
tionless-in-motion, still yet with 
swift on-sweeping silence that was 
ear-racking with a pressure that 
should have been sound and was not ! 
Fear an icy torrent of crawling cold 
in the bowels, on her back, up her 
neck — she shrieked once, and stopped 
— she could not hear the sound ! 

On went the thing, and poor Meloa 
held her breath, closed her eyes, and 
after a time, fell mercifully again 
into another faint. 

1> ACK upon the worried little world 
of Node, young Kal Harn came 
in a short time to the point of inevi- 
table death — as did all who showed 
the angry red marks of the plague. 
He fought back the darkness, crying 




WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


27 


out for his sweet Meloa T, weakly 
“Meloa, come now, where have you 
gone when I need you most? 

And the slim young nurse-maid 
pressed his hot body back against the 
pillows, in desperation telling him . 
“Your Meloa has already been given 
to the Grey Prophet of the Way of 
Death by the Genpoint of Gran Jac. 
There is no use your crying for her— 
she will never come again!” 

Cruel it was to tell him, but she was 
driven beyond caring by the many 
duties for so many stricken by the 
rapidly spreading plague. 

Poor Kal weakened swiftly after 
that, and knew there was no use nor 
much sense in wanting to live anyway* 
But before he died he exacted a prom- 
ise that he, too, would be laid before 
the Opening of the Way of Death. 

It was done, even as he asked of 
them. Permission was gained of the 
priests of the Temple, his body was 
lain where before only the great black 
carcases of their own race nad beer 
placed— and the lean grey figure came 
and bore him down the tunnel of fun- 
neling mist. 

M ELOA T, when she came to her 
mind again, found herself lying 
upon a pale grey bank of moss, and 
waiting nearby a tall woman, clad in 
black. 

Upon her shoulder sat a great red 
bird. Of the sky beyond was nothing 
but a slow whirl of mist, and some- 
times glowing ragged rocks showing 
through the grey mist. 

The tall woman stroked her bird, 
and presently said: “Greetings, little 
stranger from life. Are there many so 
attractive as yourself above?” 

The bird glared down disapproving- 
ly upon Meloa’s distraught face, and 
squalked one loud sound of complete 
disgust. 

“Are you a friend?” asked Meloa. 
“In this place I did not expect friend- 


ship. What am I to expect here, and 
how came I to be sent here?” 

The woman smiled gloomily; wear- 
ily, yet she smiled. “A friend, yes. . » 
Expect? You can expect to under- 
stand nothing here for a long time — 
and when you do understand, it is 

not good.” 

“Are you dead? Am I dead?’ asked 
Meloa. 

“This is not so dead a land as you 
might think, little stranger. It is a 
land of deep and ancient magic, long 
turned evil, yes. But of death we have 
only a little out in the open. Most of 
it is stored away, waiting its use.” 

The woman's voice was very 
strange and different to Meloa’s ears, 
who had never met before a human 
who had been gifted with innumerable 
years of life. Warm, yet impersonal, 
slow and rich with much knowing, 
one wished for that voice after it 
ceased. Meloa’s eyes sought her face 
when she spoke, to look for the 
beauty the voice expressed upon the 
strange, almost cynically weary face. 
But the eyes of her always remained 
veiled and distant, not looking into 
Meloa’s. Sad eyes, waiting, too full 
of some past pain, like a memory 

that would not go away. 

“Who are you?” Meloa sometimes 
asked, awed by some sudden revela- 
tion of inhuman wisdom or by her 
statuesque height, her solemn, dis- 
tant bearing. 

“Names do not matter here, any 
more, little Meloa. I am one who was 
here before it became what is now 
the Land of Death. The changes 
passed me by, inflicting only pain 
and not destruction of my self— I 
hope.” 

“Can I stay with you? Till I get 

used to it, anyway?” 

“If you only knew how glad I am 
that your bright youth has come to 
me before death touched you! 

“Are you dead? You can’t be dead! 


28 


AMAZING STORIES 


Oh, say it isn't true!” 

“You are overwrought, Meloa. Of 
course I'm not dead, though I have 
often wished to be so. You will under- 
stand by and by.” 

Time went by for Meloa, and she 
could not understand this place or 
this woman or what possible pur- 
pose had been served by her own 
sending into this strange world. And 
the woman only smiled when she 
asked, and told her it was better not 
to know, for a time. 

Then one day, sadly the woman 
came toward her where she sat by 
the grey moss-tree where the little 
pool tinkled from the streams fall. 
And behind her walked — Kal Harn. 

Meloa gave a glad cry and flung 
herself into Kal’s arms. 

But his arms did not enwrap her 
in sweet remembering love. He stood 
like a block of wood ! 

She raised her face to his, looked 
into his... dead eyes! Then she 
screamed, and screamed again. She 
ran weeping back into the cave of her 
tall mysterious friend. 

. After a moment the dead, walking 
body of Kal followed the tall woman 
into the cave after Meloa. 

“It is time now to tell you of this 
place, and why the dead walk,” said 
the tall woman. Her voice drew Meloa 
from her shocked state, she listened 
with wide, tear-wet eyes. 

C IT IS that only the Queen 
can give life back to your 
lover,” concluded the tall woman. For 
all the dead who are taken in here 
are the servants, the stored weapons 
of the Lord of this world, which he 
keeps with his knowledge of life in 
a kind of half-life. He can use them 
if he ever has to do so, to fight an 
invading army. But time has done 
things to him, he is no longer even 
remotely human. His Queen, she la 


of a different stripe. Ask—she knows 
the way of release. But I have never 
heard of her defying the Lord and re- 
leasing any of his subjects,” 

44 You go to them, you know how 
to deal with beings such as these. I 
feel completely helpless.” 

The woman smiled a rather terrible 
smile, grim and deep and toothy with 
a time-worn anger in it. 

“I am not allowed to enter their 
halls, Meloa. They know I would kill 
them if chance offered. You they 
would not fear, for you could not.” 

“You mean, they rule, and leave 
you freedom, knowing you are an 
enemy?” 

“That is but a way of tormenting 
me, so that I live always for an op- 
portunity that they are sure never 
will come to me. Hate is not good to 
live with, and they know... But our 
ancient feud has nothing to do with 
you. Go, you might have luck.” 

TT SAT in gloomy splendor, still, 

motionless as death itself, in a 
quiet chill of utterly alien power. The 

place where IT sat was reminiscent 
of a King behind the chess pieces. 
There were no pieces before- the 
deathless King, though the impres- 
sion of will-less servitors waiting the 
quiet vast will of IT from the grey 
throne was inescapable. 

Meloa shuddered, and waited, too. 
So this was the Grey Lord, who had 
held the race of giants of Gran Jac 
under a spell of fear for centuries — 
still living! If it was life that moved 
within the cold grey eyes. 

The floor of the vast and dismal 
place bore out the impression of 
chess. Great squares of black alter- 
nated with squares of crimson, wait- 
ing for some drama that Meloa felt 
would be to the mind behind those 
terrible eyes no more important real- 
ly, than any game of real chess 



29 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


would be to a mere man. Nor to him 
to be thought of differently than a 
game. 

Beside him, the still, death-like 
face of the Queen was a black graven 
mask. Apparently carved of stone, 
only her eyes lit with a strange blue 
fire, burning down upon Meloa. Of 
what race this black-fleshed Queen? 
With her glowing dark skin like pol- 
ished ebony, the chiseled, alien fea- 
tures expressionless of all but utter 
weariness and waiting — for what, 
Meloa wondered? 

Beauty she had, a still beauty as if 
herself was of chaste metal. Deli- 
cate, yet utterly hard of expression. 
Lovely, yet cold with some deadly 
inner cold. Fragile, yet strong of in- 
ner intense hardness. Frighteningly 
motionless, as if she herself was but 

a statue set there to stare forever at 
nothing. 

Yet no artist ever carved such time- 
less repudiation of life’s worthless 
values upon any face. No living artist 
shaped those nude ebony limbs into 
exquisite form and polished perfec- 
tion. Nothing could have formed her 
but the ages of development behind 
some ancient alien race forgotten now 
by all the surface life of Gran Jac. 
There was an alien and utter perfec- 
tion in every line of her. 

Ageless, yet frozen by a weight of 
time and some realization of the futili- 
ty of movement toward known useless 
goals. Lovely with a delicate chiseled 
beauty. Cruel, with thin lips drawn 
about with a harsh and angry line 
that yet seemed to have an infinite 
patience and a great wisdom within 
her softening the seeming cruel face 
into — a terrible beauty. 

r J l HE GREY inhuman man-shaped 

thing beside her moved, then, aft- 
er so very long that Meloa was sure 
she had mistaken two statues for liv- 


ing beings. Crossed one long sinewed 
leg encased in gleaming grey silk 
hose upon one in shining black hose 
— and motioned Meloa closer. 

The blue deep eye-fire in the dark 
eyes of the still Queen flickered 
angrily as Meloa moved closer. It 
was not a good feeling for Meloa, 
standing there. But it was weirdly, 
terribly pleasant. Some fire of alien, 
ancient desire from worlds long past 
-—worlds once filled with terrific, 
immortal lusts — from some world not 
human that birthed these creatures 
long ago, came invisibly from IT like 
the touch of desiring hands upon her 
body and those hands . not man’s 
hands but the eery touch of an an- 
cient, hoary ghost who yet lived on 
in undying animal strength. 

She knew this was the mind of the 
Grey one searching her, touching her 
with some intense tactile sensing of 
the mind. As she stood before the 
two of them this unaten yet quite real 
and felt violation of her body went 
on, mounting in intensity even as the 
eye-fire of the dark Queen mounted 
in anger. 

Some vampirish power of the Grey 
Lord seemed drinking at her young 
strength! Voluptuously draining her 
with some space-negating tentacle, 
absorbing her as if his mouth were 
at her thioat, and her life-blood flow- 
ing sweetly out and into him. 

Weakening, sickening rapidly, 
Meloa put one hand to her brow, 
reached for some slipport with the 
other. As invisibly as it had come the 
draining power left her, and as if by 
way of reward a sudden ecstasy 
flowed through her. A new and dif- 
ferent strengthening mounted with- 
ing her, and as suddenly her anger 
flashed out at this violation and a 
terrible realization of the slave-thing 
she must become to this undying 
monster upon his throne unless she 
found a way of resistance where 


30 amazing 

none seemed possible. 

Now Meloa did not voice her con- 
suming anger, but moved to stand 
silently before the Queen, and their 
two minds met invisibly there before 
the Grey Lord in a communion 
from which he was excluded. 

From that communion of two fe- 
male minds the black Queen turned 
again to the Grey one, and gazed on 
him with a steady, penetrating, meas 


STORIES 

chess, my queen? It has been too 
long since we measured our strengths. 
This time your beauty will not again 
sway me to mercy, perhaps ?” 

Meloa sensed the question the 
Grey one put to the Queen, noted her 
swift angered acceptance. Marveled 
at the still, unmoving icy calm which 
held such passions confined. How end- 
lessly long had their hate of each 
other been held on that leash of 


uring look. 

Scornful her voice, breaking the 
heavy silence that had so far re- 
mained unbroken since Meloa en- 
tered. 

“I have sat for too long ! How many 
life-times of mortals I have let you 
go your way, because now since the 
change that stranded us here, nothing 
mattered. But now you have over- 
stepped your bounds. This girl is 
not the ordinary vegetable to whose 
fate I could reconcile my ancient love 
of her kind. I can not cynically turn 
away my face and feel nothing in my 
heart. You cannot have her, Sakum, 
you cannot have her or any like her! 
It is time you learned to live without 
such sustenance. I place my protec- 
tion over her, and you know what 
that means !” 

T HE GREY long terrible face 
looked at her astounded. The in- 
credible fingers twitched for a sec- 
ond in all their jointed length, un- 
controllably. Something like fright, a 
long buried fear suddenly unearthed, 
came and went on the strange, 
too-wise face. A strong face, yet 
with an inner weakness as of some 
long-gnawing sickness. 

Then IT shrugged and its thought 
came out and touched the mind of 
Meloa briefly, she sensed the prob- 
ing, asking, knew that her loathing 
for’ the ancient creature was seen by 

him. 

“Shall we play a game 


time? It was not understandable, 
these alien , terrible creatures could 
possess and be moved by such ha- 
tred and detestation each of the other, 
yet sit there. Have sat there in Lord- 
ship over this eerie world of theirs 
in calm acceptance of each other for 
many centuries? Meloa was at a loss 
to understand what lay between them 
to bind them so against their wills. 

Evidently some ancient tie had to- 
day come undone. Herself the cat- 
alyst needed to cause the change, and 
that too was hard to understand. A 
game of chess— yet the Grey one did 
not mean chess. He meant instead 
some contest inexplicable as she 
sensed the thought between them, 
some terrific measuring of immortal 
powers — beyond anyones comprehen- 
sion but their own undying minds. 

Meloa still stood, waiting for she 

knew not what, while the two young- 
old creatures of another time rose and 
walked to opposite sides of the room. 

There she noted two small cabin- 
ets of opaque gleaming stuff, these 
came out from the wall at a touch, 
revealing seats inside. Like the driv- 
ers seat of some strange vehicle, and 
the dash of many complex instru- 
ments before the seat. 

Each took their places facing each 
other across the black and red 
squares of the floor. Even as they 
touched here and there a control upon 
the panel, the Queen spoke to Meloa 

orally : 

“I will release your loved youth, 


of our own 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


31 


as you came to request, then you had 
better leave here at once/’ 

Meloa stood watching them make 
these preparations, listening to the 
hum and pulse of new awakened pow- 
er within the cabinets and beneath the 
floor — and shortly in at the great 
door came blindly stumbling the 
mindless zombie that had been her 
own Kal Harn. 

The Grey One looked up, mut- 
tered : 

“Enter, my first piece, and you ex- 
pect to take him from me in viola- 
tion of our agreement!” 

From his strange panel of control 
of hidden power a force leaped out 
visibly, like violet fire tenuous but 
intense, touched Kal. 

I^AL WHEELED and began to 
leap across the squares toward 
the black Queen. Quite as swiftly she 
sent a beam of dull green force from 
her panel out upon Kal, and he 
stopped in his tracks. Gazed about 
him wonderingly, turned to Meloa 
with his eyes full of questions, and 
full of new life. 

“Meloa! Life again! I thought I 
was dead, it was a very bad dream, I 
have been sick — ” He came toward 
her, arms out. Meloa went into his 
arms with a glad cry. 

“Oh Kal, it has been so terrible. 
The Grey One was going to...” 

Some compulsion came to her then, 
making her tell Kal the thing the 
Grey One had done to her, and as she 
realized she had said what she would 
not, she started back, her hand to her 
mouth. 

For Kal was raging back across the 
checkered floor, murder in his eyes. 
She saw he meant to kill the Grey 
One out of hand, with his bare fists. 

But again the force beam flicked 
out and touched him, and again he 
became the mindless zombie he had 


been when he entered. 

•V- 

Meloa herself now sprang across 
the red and black squares, intent on 
scratching out the things eyes that 
had done this to her man. Quite sud- 
denlv her own self vanished from 
within her, and she knew no more. 

Two zombies shambled from the 
room, and the Grey Lord tittered as 
they went, he had triumphed over 
the Queen the first move. But the 
zombies made no answer. 

As they reached the edge of the 
colored floor squares, a ray flicked 
to them from the Black Queen, 
touching each of them, and life came 
into their minds and into their eyes, 
and thev both fled after one look 
back at the two who struggled. 

In their minds a whisper went with 
them, etched there in a permanent 
intensity : 

“Bring your Blades, and the 
Queen will find work for their 
swords !” 

Behind them they sensed those 
two alien entities facing each other 
over their crossed swords of weird 
energv. and wondered, but ran on and 
on. Meloa murmured, — 

“So begins a game that can end 
only in the death of one of them. And 
they have lived as mates for endless 
lifetimes of our time! They have 
been to each other the staff and sol- 
ace of an immortal existence, here in 
the place they built within the bowels 
of Gran Jac!” 

Kal Harn grunted. Then he 
grinned and answered: “They have 
lived too long together. Seems in- 
evitable.” 

MOW MELOA was leading the 
way well known to her, toward 
the weird tunnel of force which led 


32 


AMAZING STORIES 


to the great chamber of the prophecy. 
But how they, unknowing the meth- 
od of travel along those whirling 
walls that were not matter but some 
stranere divorce of matter from its 
inner energies; were to traverse the 
tunnel was beyond her. 

The tall woman, black-clad as 
usual, with the great red bird on her 
shoulder, was waiting where the 
first misty greyness of the tunnel be- 
gan. She smiled her too-knowing 

smile. 

“You knew we were coming here? 
How?” cried Meloa, embracing her 
tightly for a second, then standing 
back and waving a hand to Kal to 
show he was again himself and not 
mindless. 

“I have a faculty for knowing even 
what is going to happen, little in- 
nocent. Come, I will show you the 
way, that your strong muscled lover 
may bring down upon the Grey 
Louse the doom he has earned so 
many times over/’ 

“Yes, we want to go and bring our 
Blades here as the Queen asked us.” 

“But you must stay, Meloa, else will 
I not help you. Your lover will then 
be sure to return with forces to set 
you free. If you go with him it will 
turn out that he will not return. I 
help you only to turn the tables on 
the being whom I detest above all 
others.” 

Near to the great whirling funnel 
that was the mouth of the way to 
the upper world was a small stone 
house. Here the tall woman made 
them enter. She took from a closet 
a cloak, a voluminous grey thing of 
almost gauzy texture, yet so much 
metallic weight to it as to be the 
heaviest garments Kal had ever worn. 

“Put this on. As you step into the 
funnel mouth do so very slowly. Your 
body will adjust within the trans- 
forming metal of the cloak so that 


it can withstand the dissolving forces 
that else would weaken you too great- 
ly, Only thus may you hope to re- 
turn.” 

“But how does it bear people both 
ways?” asked Kal, watching the eery 
twisting of the walls around and 
around. 

“It is not anything built by men 
of today. It was put here by the 
race of which the Queen is the lone 
survivor, now. This cloak of metal 
gauze is the key needed. You will 
find the floor of the tunnel bears 
you along, clutching with its mag- 
netic force at the metal.” 

She opened a small panel set in 
the wall. There were two levers, one 
black, and one white. 

“You see, it is in some ways a 
simple magnetic vortice. It has many 
layers of force one over the other. 
You know how electric force travels 
in a wire, the current one direction, 
the field another? This is the same, 
by pulling one of these levers the 
forces reverse their flow, the white is 
the outward control. Kiss your wo- 
man and get on your way! The two 
who rule here will not remain at 
each others throat forever.” 

Meloa watched Kal step into the 
tunnel and glide swiftly upward out 
of sight. Then she went back to the 
stone house, where her eerie friend 
stood brooding and stroking the 
great scarlet bird on her shoulder. It 
shrieked at Meloa and suddenly rose 
on wide wings, flying off toward 
the palace of the Grey Lord. Meloa 
asked : 

“Can you see the future truly? Tell 
me, then, woman of strange knowl- 
edge, will my man come back to me? 
If you answer no, I will put on a 
cloak and pursue him. I cannot live 
without him more. I have learned 
what it means...” Meloa sobbed, and 
the woman took her in her arms 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


33 


stroking her hair and crooning softly 

OU ARE overstrained, little 
one. It was needful or I 
would not have sent him away. Of 
course he will return again. It was 
that love for you I needed to make 
sure he would bring his Blades. Noth- 
ing is so sure to bring men on the 
run as the thought of their women 
in peril — even one alone like your- 
self. It is infallible.” 

- 

“What is this Grey thing on his 
throne anyway? I cannot under- 
stand, he seemed to drink my 
strength from a distance, left me not 
the same, but changed. I felt drained 
of something. Then back into me 
rushed something that was not my 
own, yet strengthened me.” 

“That thing is no longer human 
flesh. He has changed, fighting the 
years with the science that was left 
by those who built this place. He 
has never faced determined opposi- 
tion, and his preparations will not be 
enough to overcome well-trained and 
intelligent warriors such as I know 
your Nodes to be. They will do for 
him, and I will be happier knowing 
he is no longer able to work his will 
on such as you.” 

“I feel so different, as if my inner 
self was damaged...” 

“You have been damaged, but you 
are young enough, you will recover. 
Heard you ever of the custom of bee- 
keepers? They take the good honey 
from the hive,' and put in its place 
sweetened water so the- bees will not 
starve. His body, after so long liv- 
ing and the strange things he has 
done with his life forces, has become 
unable to create certain life forces. 
But he has learned to absorb the 
young life strength; and to keep 
his ‘bees’ alive, he has learned to 
feed them something much less 
good.” 


CHAPTER FIVE 

l^AL HARN stepped out of the 
tunnel that was to the giant race 
of Gran Jac the Way of Death. He 
found the great chamber of the 
prophecy deserted except for a few 
gigantic warriors paying their devo- 
tions. These fell to their knees at 
sight of the strange elongated ap- 
pearance caused by the light distor- 
tion in the field of magnetic force 
about the mouth of the tunnel. That 
grey robe had to them always meant 
the messenger from the land of 
Death. 

It was with complete unbelief and 
consternation on their faces that they 
watched the tall figure step out of the 
mouth of the tunnel of force and be- 
come shorter, suddenly but an ordin- 
ary figure of the smaller races. He 
cast off the grey robe and appeared 
to them suddenly not as the dread 
messenger from the Lord of Death 
but as merely a warrior of the Nodes ! 

Kal took advantage of their froz- 
en inability to comprehend. He 
struck the first blow at the beliefs 
that bound these giants to protect 
the tunnel from the very invasion 
he planned. Kal shouted: 

“Now your eyes have seen the 
truth of this pathway of the dead. It 

is not holy. It is true there is a place 

* 

within where the dead are brought 
back to life, but they are kept like 
walking dead for warriors if need 
arises. I think the need should arise. 
Help me get ship to my own world, 
there I will raise the signal and the 
Blades alone will invade this world 
of the dead if you will not help us. 
There are those who dwell in slav- 
ery to a sham, they are your people.” 

The giants rose from their knees, 
full of anger at his words. But in a 
moment the wonder of his presence 
after they had seen his dead body 
given to the Way — the possibility 



34 


AMAZING STORIES 


that there was something not quite 
straight about this tunnel of death— 
began to penetrate their thinking. 

One rumbled from his chest a few 
words, stumbling and incoherent. “I 
know not whether you be living or 
spirit. Certain it is you have trod the 
Way of the Dead and come forth 
alive. As such you have the right of 
the consecrated and are inviolate to 
our anger as to our laws. I will take 
you to the Genpoint, he will write 

you a permit to travel outward or to 
the globe of the Nodes if that is your 
desire. Or he will destroy you, know- 
ing more of these mysteries than our- 
selves.” 

Kal put in a subtle word: “There 
will be some fine looting to do, rich 
and defenseless it is. You never saw 
such women as he has prisoned there. 
All as easy to take as the hat off 
your head...” With which Kal 
leaped and knocked the helmet from 
the warrior’s head. The big fellow 
grinned and stooped to pick it up, 
his eyes upon the little man who had 
no fear of either Death or of him- 
self. 

V ANUE moved the record control 
lever, and the scenes began to 
flash by at blurring speed. Mion 
leaned forward to watch intently, for 
the speed was now confusing. 

C onferences, violent arguing 
sessions, long trips from globe 
to globe of the five satellites— the 
effort Kal Harn had to make to con- 
vince his superiors his tale was 
true — To convince the Green Wing 
herself it was necessary to bring her 
the nurse and the doctor who had at- 
tended him on his death bed. 

The meeting between the Gen- 
point and the Green W^ing after their 
former disagreement, their agree- 
ment to join forces for this solution 
of the disappearance of the dead 


placed before the Opening of the 
Way — the manufacture of a copy of 
the cloak that Kal had worn, in great 
numbers for the armies. 

The Blades donning the grey metal 
uniforms their own technicians had 
manufactured from the one Kal 
brought. The flight of their ships to 
Gran Jac, back and forth, ferrying 
them all to the City of the Temple. 

Their entrance into the here-to-fore 
sacred Temple, column on column 
tramping through the eorridors of the 
ancient holiness now no longer holy. 
The shocked faces of the put-aside 
priests standing helpless before this 
mass sacrilege. A*rmed men tramping 
steadily through and into the fearful 
tunnel of weird force! The last of 
them entering and the mighty tread 
of the armies of Gran Jac beginning 
as they followed their gigantic Gen- 
point on the heels of the last of the 
Blades. 

A good half of those marching 
black giants believed they were 
marching into death, and would never 
return — but they marched. Most of 
them did not doubt the ability of the 
ancient being ruling the land beyond 
the tunnel to defeat them, expected 
to find only dead Blades before the 
other end of the tunnel. 

To the meeting between Kal Harn 
and Meloa T, there in front of the 
Green Wing herself. Meloa flung her 
arms about Kal and kissed him before 
them all, and tears stained many a 
warrior’s eyes. 

The march across that weird land 
of mist and glowing rocks and 
strange soft mosses. The sighting of 
the great grey palace of the past, 
and charging down upon them from 
the stony heights an army fearful be- 
yond normal fear. 

For they were an army of the un- 
dead, those who had passed through 
the tunnel and been turned into dead- 
alive by the Grey Lord. Mindless, 


WE DANCE FOR THE DOM 


35 


their lips giving forth no crys, their 
blades held straight before them. All 
moving in unison as though one mind 
alone directed every body — which it 
did. Somewhere, seated before some 
ancient energy device, the Grey Lord 
was directing his automatons — and 
each moved precisely as the other, 
stiffly they marched, ran, thrust and 
stabbed — all at the same time. 

The fighting with that horde of 
mindless things that had once been 
men. Most of them were giant war- 
riors from the planet surface, black 
warriors of Gran Jac, and the flame 
swords passed through their bodies, 
burning and searing away the flesh — 
yet they came on, swinging their 
weapons and killing the invaders, 
even when their own bodies were half 
destroyed. Fearful was the sight of 
warriors with legs hacked off, walk- 
ing forward on the stumps, still stab- 
bing and lunging in unison. And 
each and every face wearing the same 
masklike emptiness, a face without 
consciousness, a face that changed 
not even when the body was separated 
from it. 

I NTO THE thickest of the battle 
came then the tall black-gowned 
woman with the red bird upon her 
shoulder. Sent her great winged 
friend swooping and screaming above 
the struggle, and cried out tc them 
all : 

"Do not fight with these things. 
They are too worn with un-natural 
life and long time to catch a living 
man in flight. Run around them, push 
them aside and pass on, disregard 

them.” 

Even as she shouted at them she 
showed them with swift hands how 
they might be tripped up and piled 
together like cordwood, one on top 
of another, still with their swords 
moving and cutting, their legs still 
striding as if on firm earth! 


After her demonstraton the quick 
defeat of the army of the dead. Then 
the entrance at last into the dread 
old palace of the past, the glad cries 
of captive women as they saw that 
in truth this thing had come to pass 
and they were delivered from that 
which fed upon them. 

Kal and Meloa and the Green 
Wing, the Genpoint’s giant form be- 
side them, coming into the great 
throne room of the red and black 
checkered floor. 

Seated there still at their strange 
game the thin and beautiful black 
queen, flinging still her rays of force 
across the checkered floor against 
the Grey Lord. And it, the Grey one, 
his face fixed in a fury and his hands 
upon the ray levers that would not 
any longer bring him victory be- 
cause the one being in all the world 
who would have made him invincible 
with her help was now an avenging 
fury. The repudiation on her face of 
the Grey One was a flame of meaning 
across the throne room, augumented 
by the great powers of the force rays 

at her finger tips. 

Kal raging out across the checkered 
floor and the flame sword in his 
hand arcing out in a great stroke that 
would have lopped the head off the 
Grey One. But his ray leaped from 
his ancient device and the flame of 
the sword died away before it. Kal 
raging on, bringing the hilt of the 
useless sword down upon the head 
of the undying thing, sprawling him 
out across the red and black like a 

great dead spider. 

The laugh of the black Queen to 

see him so, that contained many life- 
times of frustration and hate, a dread- 
ful laugh to hear. Her ray touch- 
ing his fallen head, and his thought 
made loud for them to hear: 

"Of all my age of striving toward 
perfection of living, toward beauty 
and the possession of beauty. All, all 


36 


AMAZING STORIES 


I 


my work cut down by the fist of a 
youth of no intelligence. Ah, Nini- 
tavha, my queen, how could you 
do this to me?” 

Of the Queen’s strange answer to 
the fallen Lord. 

“You can ask that? Better to ask 
how could I have borne your evil 
life all this endless time without once 
understanding that you were no long- 
er life, but something much less 
worth the simplest living thing! Bet- 
ter to ask what makes a wife so stu- 
pid about a thing she once loved !” 

“If I had v/on our little game of 
chess, Ninitavha, I meant to put 
you into. . .” 

Her ray reached out again and 
touched him, he stiffened, his weird 
long face , assuming suddenly that 
mask like emptiness which told 
them — the Grey Lord had himself be- 
come what he had made of so many — 
a thing without a mind. To Kal and 
to them all it seemed a great im- 
provement. The Genpoint led him 
off, destined for exhibit on the sur- 
face of Gran Jac. 

i 

XTANUE TOUCHED the controls. , 
and the shifting scenes of the 
thought cloud ceased to flow one 
into another , became the pearl and 
smoky amber of quiescence. Mion 
asked: 

“ But what of the stolen formula? 


Where has it been all this time ?* 9 

Vanue smiled. i( The brother of the 
Green Wing stole it, he thought that 
with its possession he could bargain 
his way into the seat of the Dom . Aft- 
er the Dom gave the crown to his sis- 
ter, he was afraid to confess. He still 
has it.** 

Mion laughed. He reached out and 
woke the thought cloud again, dial- 
ing a distant view of the five plan- 
ets, watched while the great twist- 
ing serpent of disintegrant ions 
flowed on past the group of worlds . 

" War will not sweep the five 
worlds now, the tide of Dee has 
passed on. It is a good record to dem- 
onstrate the influence of disintegrant 
flows upon human affairs !* 

Mion leaned back, his eyes striv- 
ing to keep from watching the over- 
powering beauty of Vanue. The silk - 
enly sliding feet of the Nor maids 
came, removing the record spools, in- 
serting again the usual suggestion 
records which made the home of 
Vanue a haven from all conflicting 
or destructive mental forces. Softly 
the great thought cloud moved upon 
itself, and spread everywhere about 
it a thought of ambition, of the goal 
of living , but for Mion it was not 
needed. For to him, the goal of liv- 
ing was to become worthy of this 
great bejng*s regard. 


A FI^ISIIED subject 

★ By Walter Webb * 


W E'RE always talking about the great 
futures of various branches of sci- 
ence and how their expansions are going 
to take place. For a change let's fasten on 
a branch of science and mathematics for 
which we can see no future expansion, a 
branch which we think has been complete- 
ly explored. We're speaking of the drafts- 
man’s art of descriptive geometry. 

When the French mathematician and en- 
gineer, Gaspard Monge, invented the meth- 
od of projections, the three views which 
everyone knows, and assorted other com- 
plicated variations, his subject was rapid- 
ly considered by many others. From this 
study by scientists and engineers the whole 


art of descriptive geometry and mechanical 
drawing was quickly exhausted. Now the 
matter is standardized completely and we 
know that machines will be drawn on blue- 
prints in the year two thousand exactly as 
they have been for the last hundred years 
and are now. 

Some of the methods of descriptive geom- 
etry are complicated, but when it is re- 
membered that the subject was invented 
to enable us to clearly describe in draw- 
ings, any three dimensional object, no mat- 
ter how viewed, it loses its terrors. So we 
have a condition in which a branch of sci- 
ence has reached its limit. One of the few 
branches where there is no future. . . 


37 


GOOD OLD GAS! 

^ By J. H. Marks ic 


I T’S THE fashion these days to criti- 
cize that tried and true standby of en- 
gineering and living — the gasoline engine. 
People are always talking about the won- 
ders and simplicity of the electric motor, 
and saying that someday it will replace 
the gas engine when a suitable electric 
accumulator is developed. Well, this is 
true. And there’s no denying that every- 
thing is in favor of the elcetric motor and 
the gas turbine. They’re efficient clean, 
simple and have a thousand other virtues. 
But there is one thing to remember. 

Practically all of the horsepower today— 
almost three quarters of it, at least in the 
U.S. , is found in the ordinary internal 
combustion engine and this includes all 
coal and hyrdroelectric plants! That gives 
you some idea of how important the gas 
engine is. It has given the world mobility, 
whatever else may be said about it. It’s re- 
liable and rugged and can take a terrible 
beating and still run — as the last war 
showed. It appears as if the Otto cycle, 
internal combustion engine is going to be 
with us for a long, long time. 

In light of this fact, what can we ex- 
pect? Can we expect that it will be great- 
ly improved? Hasn’t the internal combus- 
tion engine just about reached its peak 
in development? Let us consider these 
things. 

There will be few basic changes m gas 
engines. Modern engineering has just 
about reached the limit in this respect. We 
build good gas engines. True, there is a 
movement in the direction of valve in head 
engines. Higher compression is also coming. 
But these are not basic engineering im- 
provements. They’ve been known about for 
a long time and they are a matter of fuel 
improvements rather than anything else. 

In minor respects, the utilization of new 
alloys, new valve materials, more rigid 
crankshafts, and so forth, we can expect 


small steps forward. A major improvement 
in gas engines also is in the matter of 
operating them at higher running temper- 
atures. This can be done by using a closed 
cooling system, using steam as the medium 
and running the water jacket at the tem- 
perature of boiling water. This is more ef- 
ficient and better for the engine. Another 
approach, and a mighty important one, is 
the use of air-cooled engines. This research 
has been stimulated by the Army which 
knows how much unnecessary weight and 
complications are added to an engine which 
is water cooled. As a result numerous 
truck engine manufacturers are developing 
air-cooled engines which weigh a third of 
the conventional weight, and which are 
easier to maintain, smaller and more effi- 
cient for the same horsepower. 

It is only a matter of time before such 
simplified engines are applied to the auto- 
mobile. We have had air-cooled engines in 
cars in the past. Why they haven’t been a 
great success is inexplicable. Primarily it 
is inertia and resistance to anything new 
that so characterizes much of the buying 
public. Undoubtedly air-cooled engines are 
in the near future. 

All of these things however may be 
nullified if and when a successful, cheap 
gas turbine is manufactured. It seems too 
early to say definitely, but certainly the 
hand-writing is on the wall. The gas tur- 
bine is coming — and fast. Even so, the in- 
ternal combustion engine appears as if it 
will be with us for a long time. An emi- 
nent Chinese engineer says that what his 
backward country needs is numerous sim- 
ple two-cylinder engines to take the curse 
off manual labor. So the answer is — don’t 
sell tiie good old gas engine short. We’ll 
be hearing a lot about pistons and valves 
even during the early rocket and atomic 
ages ! 

♦ * * 


MICHELSON’S TIDES 

^ By W. R. Chase ★ 


HE NAME of Michelson, the American 

physicist, is immortalized in a number 
of scientific instruments and experiments. 
There are the Michelson interferometer 
used in measuring the stars, the famous 
Michelson-Morley experiment so famous in 
relativity, and not least, “the Michelson 
Ocean.” 

The* inteferometer is now used wherever 
minute distances are to be accurately 
measured. It is an optical instrument of 
extreme sensitivity. As a matter of fact it 
was the heart of the Michelson-Morley ex- 
periment. . , 

But not so well known is the Michelson 
Ocean. In an effort to measure the tides, 
the effect of the Moon on the Earth’s 


oceans, Michelson constructed a steel pipe 
about a hundred and fifty meters long, 
leveled with extraordinary, accuracy. By 
locating telescopes at either end and filling 
the pipe half full of water it was possible 
to duplicate the Pacific on a small scale. 

While this experiment gave accurate data 
on the heights of the tides, it also provided 
the information indirectly that the rigidity 
of the Earth was comparable with steel, 
an opinion which hadn’t hitherto been held. 
Study of earthquakes later confirmed this 
discovery. Also a consequence of this exper- 
iment was the observation that, though to 
strong quick forces the Earth acts like 
steel, to weak long-duration forces, the 
Earth behaves as a plastic putty-ball! 




By G. M. Martin 

They called iLnuim a city of the dead. Its 
Martian peoples lay frozen in their tracks. 
But were they really dead— or only asleep? 


Paper of Research Prepared by 
Professor John Granger 
Weston Scientific Foundation 
New York, N. Y. 

August 11, 2024 

Having recently returned from 
that barren section of Mars, called 
the Plain of Parna, I wish to re- 
port that the City of Launn actually 
exists. Scientists of this foundation 
have long believed that at one time 
the Plain of Parna, now desolate 
wasteland was inhabitated, and irri- 
gated to produce vast riches to sup- 
port a city far ahead, in every cul- 
tural sense, of any earth settlement. 

Sparse news of Launn can be gath- 
ered on Mars itself. As this planet 
has once more reverted to the rug- 
ged, mining and pioneer country 
that our own west resembled at one 
time, the people chuckle at the mere 
thought that Launn existed or that 
Mars has ever been anything but a 
rough, uncomfortable place to live. 

Not discouraged at the unfriendly 
attitude encountered in Martian set- 
tlements, I left the last outpost, 
Fitzroy, on the edge of the Plain of 
Parna, July seventh, 2023. I was 
alone, and in trying to navigate over 
the Plain in a small space ship sup- 
plied for me by the foundation, I 
soon learned that the terrific heat 
caused updrafts above the desert 
that made space navigation impossi- 
ble. I was forced to return to Fitz- 


roy and solicit the assistance of a 
Burtell* caravan master, who after 
many weeks, managed to come with- 
in sight of Launn. It was then that 
I learned that other Martians had 
seen Launn, but refused to help me 
as they feared the strange city of 
dead. 

While the caravan master waited 
for a week at the edge of the city, 
I carried on alone. I have proven 
that this city is inhabited by a race 
of dead people. Men and women 
who, for some strange reason, were 
suddenly petrified in the very midst 
of their activity. I found men in the 
act of cutting hair, stopped in ac- 
tion, their clippers halted in mid- 
air. 

t 

I found shopkeepers, women at 
the city fountain, everyone in fact, 
smiling and robust in appearance, 
but solid as stone and standing as 
they must have stood when some 
strange force rooted them to the 
spot. 

Launn, I have deduced, was not 
only centuries ahead of all other 
Martian civilization, but had ma- 
chines and culture vastly improved 
on our own. 

It is my fondest dream to return 
to Launn with proper materials, and 
attempt to bring the people of this 
city to life. To study them and de- 
termine what changes can be made 
to better our own living by copying 

'Burtell - Martian desert burro 





Granger couldn't make up his mind whether 
to be alarmed or amused by the appearance and actions of the Insect men 



















39 




40 


AMAZING STORIES 


the citizens of this long dead city. 

I am prepared. . . 

AUTHOR’S NOTE— This account 
covered a total of five hundred 
pages, and dealt in detail with every 
phase of life (or death) in Launn. 
It was read on August 22, to the 
members of the Weston Research 
Foundation. 

Charles Weston, a stern faced 
man, his almost bald 3calp shining 
under the light of the lamps above 
the long table, cleared his throat. 

“Gentlemen,” he addressed the dis- 
tinguished group seated on either 
side of the table. “You have heard 
John Granger’s report. May I, as the 
leader of this foundation, offer a 
few words?” 

It was obvious from the look of 
determination on his face that no 
one could stop him. No one tried. 

“Granger is ill at present. He 
could not be at this meeting and the 
report has been read by the secretary 
of the foundation. It is a most in- 
teresting report, if rather long wind- 
ed...” 

A few men chuckled softly at this 
point. 

“Granger is ill, as I mentioned be- 
fore. His — mind — isn’t quite as clear 
as it was when he joined our ranks 
several years ago. 

His meaning was obvious. Some 
of the foundation’s members smiled. 
Others, friends of Granger, didn’t 
look happy. 

“Granger tells us that we can gain 
a cultural heritage from Launn, if 
in some expensive and far fetched 
manner, we can restore life to a 
race of dead people that we are not 
even sure exist. 

“Weston Foundation spends its 
money only on sound research, 
where the benefits gained can be 
given direct to Americans to better 


their living. For this reason, I vote 
against anything that sounds as 
vague as Granger’s suggestion. I do 
not care to spend millions pursuing 
a will-o-the wisp which probably ex- 
ists only in Granger’s mind.” 

He sat down rather heavily, light- 
ed a new cigar and waited for sug- 
gestions. Near the far end of the 
table a tall, rather gaunt looking 
man stood up. Weston nodded at 
him. 

“What have you to say, Jordon?” 

Phillip Jordon smiled. It made him 
look like a grinning death head with 
nothing but skin to cover the bones 
of his ugly face. 

“I’m with you, Weston,” he said. 
“But I’ll go a step farther. Granger 
is washed up. He’s too old and he’s 
a dreamer. Not aggressive enough 
for the foundation’s purpose. I pro- 
pose that he be asked to retire and 
give up his position here.” 

A stir of unrest in the room 
caused men to whisper among them- 
selves. Someone said, without aris- 
ing. 

“Granger didn’t cut in on your 
field at Fitzroy, did he Phillip?” 

HILLIP JORDON reddened. 
Weston was on his feet, and his 
heavy fist crashed down on the 
table. 

“Just a moment,” he said loudly. 
“Phillip Jordon is a member of good 
standing here. It was long ago 
proven that he has no connection 
with Sulphana Inc. Why do you men 
persist. .,. ? 

The man who had challenged Jor- 
don stood up. His name was Weaks, 
and he was one of the few Granger 
supporters left in the room. 

“Because,” he said, “Jordon has 
been seen in and out of Sulphana 
for years. Sulphana gets its product 
from an undetermined location near 



CITY OF THE DEAD 


41 


Fitzroy, Mars. I have cancelled 
checks proving that Jordon received 
regular payments from Sulphana and 
now he is very anxious to keep 
Granger from going back to Fitz- 
roy. It fits, that’s all. I see it that 
way, and I’ll send in my resignation 
tomorrow. Good day, gentlemen. 

He pushed his chair back and left 

the room. 

The room was very quiet, save for 
Weston’s labored breathing. Few 
men dared insult him in this manner. 
He owned and operated the largest 
research group in America. 

“Weston owns America’s brains, 
was the saying of the nation. 

“Are there any more who wish to 
walk through that door?” he asked 
at last. No one moved. No one 
looked up. 

“I accept your suggestion, Jor- 
don,” Weston said at length. “Gran- 
gcr will be asked to retire at once. 

CHARLES WESTON — President 
of the organization — said in the 
NEW YORK CITIZEN: 

Granger’s report reflects in no way 
on the Foundation. We do not 
choose to vouch for the truth of 
his words, or to deny it. Further 
study is necessary. Personally, I 
can say that doubt exists in my 
mind concerning the full truth of 
the report. 

August 30 — NEW YORK CITI- 
ZEN: John Granger, the man who 
visited a dead city, killed his own 
chances for a fine career with the 
Weston Research Foundation by re- 
signing abruptly, without explain- 
ing his reasons for doing so. It is 
thought that a statement in this 
paper by the director of the Founda- 
tion, Charles Weston, may have 
caused ill feelings between these two 
men. 


AUTHOR’S NOTE— Several years 
passed after Granger dropped back 
into public life. Then in 2033, a 
small concern announced its inten- 
tion to explore the Plain of Parna 
at its own expense. The organization 
was listed as Granger and Brandon 
— Scientific Foundation. An insight 
into this organization can be gained 
by the following letter from Lester 
R. Brandon of Yale College to: 

John Granger 

144 Ridge Road § 

Brighton, New York 
Dear Mr. Granger : 

Our past correspondence has been 
pleasant, but without direct results. 

I have studied the Weston case 
against you with great interest and 
agree that Phillip Jordon shows un- 
due interest in preventing us from 
visiting Launn. Jordon has recently 
been doing business openly with 
Sulphana Inc. Sulphana’s product, I 
am ready to swear, is not a manu- 
factured one. It has been produced 
by some animal of plant life, for 
we find it impossible to break down 
chemically all the ingredients found 
in it. Like the ancient sulpha drug, 
it cures. But it works in cases that 
one would think impossible to ef- 
fect a cure. Sulphana will cure and 
knit a wound in two days. It will 
actually bring a man back to health 
when all other medical aids have ^ 
failed. 

It is my belief that our trip to 
Launn will be two-fold in purpose. 

I will attempt to assist you in bring- 
ing to life the strange race of peo- 
ple you mention. I will also attempt 
to trace the source of Sulphana. The 
organization now controlling it holds 
a monopoly, and is robbing the pub- 
lic with prices beyond all reason. I 
would like to play a part in bring- 
ing Sulphana down to the working 








42 


AMAZING STORIES 


man’s reach and at the same time 
join with you in an attempt to save 
Launn. 

I realize that officially your stand- 
ing is bad. Weston ruined you. That 
makes no difference to me. I'm 
young and have no reputation. This 
trip may make me great. It cannot 
harm me, for there is no reputation 
to harm. 

Cordially, 

Les Brandon 

This was followed by another let- 
ter on September 4 of the same year, 
also to: 

John Granger 
144 Ridge Road 
Brighton, New York 
- Dear John: 

The plans are complete. I will sup- 
ply a cook, Mrs. Jenny Hudson, who 
is a hardy soul and a clever person 
with a menu. Her husband, who for 
some years has done janitor work 
heie at the college, is the very man 
for the hardwork of the organiza- 
tion. PeeWee Hudson we call him, 
and he’s well over six feet tall, hard 
as nails and clever with his fists. 

I’m delighted to hear that your 
wife wishes to accompany us. I’m 
sure from your description that she’s 
a very pleasant person, and will add 
to the success of the venture. 

I’ll meet you at Fitzroy, Mars, in 
October. The worst of the heat will 
be gone from the Plain of Parna by 
then. I plan to ship the desert car 
from New York this month and go 
along as space cargo to see the car 
safely to Fitzroy. 

Your friend, 

7 

Les Brandon 

* * He 

l J®E SLIM freight-bubble flashed 
over the twisting sands of the 


Plain of Parna, sending up a roll of 
dust in its wake. Inside the swift 
utility car, five people sat in vari- 
ous stages of exhaustion. PeeWee 
Hudson’s wife, Jenny, was the worst. 
Jenny, fat and covered with perspi- 
ration, had grumbled ever since the 
freight-bubble left Fitzroy, the last 
Martian outpost on the edge of the 
Plain of Parna. 

PeeWee Hudson had ignored his 
wife thus far, but his huge face was 
red with humiliation for her actions. 
If Jenny troubled him with her con- 
stant nagging, the others in the car 
were secretly amused at the whole 
affair. 

John Granger smiled as he guided 
the car ahead, his haVids gripping the 
steering levers. 

“Hold out a half hour longer,” he 
said. “We’ll be close to Launn by 
then. It will be cooler near the 
mountains.” 

Jenny sniffed. 

“I said it once and I’ll say it 
again, John Granger. I don’t approve 
of this visiting dead people. It 

ain’t...” 

PeeWee Hudson’s mouth opened 
slowly. 

“Aww! Jenny, why don’t you keep 
quiet. You’re just fretting.” 

Jenny's jaws snapped together 
with an audible click. 

Don t you tell me to shut up, 
PeeWee Hudson,” she resumed. 
‘Til...” 

“Hold it, Jenny,” the young man 
sitting behind the map-desk said. 
“There isn't room in here for a free 
for all. Wait until we reach Launn. 
We’ll rope off a ring and you and 
your husband can fight it out.” 

Jenny Hudson gave Les Brandon 
one of those, 'Now see here young 
man’ looks, and remained silent. 
Brandon studied his maps for a 
moment and then looked up again. 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


43 


“Ten minutes will end the jopr- 
ney, John, if my figures check. Give 
me the readings once more, will 

you?" 

John Granger turned momentari- , 
ly to his young flaxen-haired Eve 
who sat beside him. 

“Give our most excellent assistant 
the necessary data, will you, Eve?” 

Eve Granger laughed. 

“I guess that will silence you, mas- 
ter-mind Brandon,” she called back 
to the man at the map-desk. “Re- 
lax, will you. Don’t be so darned for- 
mal out here on the desert.” 

Brandon smiled and consulted his 
maps once more. Eve Granger 
frowned upon receiving no reply, 
then started to read the instruments 
on the control board. 

“Speed — 450 — time out of Fitzroy 
— 5 hours — time to Launn — estimated 
twenty minutes—” 

“Check,” Brandon said. “Thank 
you, Mrs. Granger.” 

She turned half around in her seat 
and said with a smile, “Eve, to my 
friends.” 

Brandon tried to smile, failed mis- 
erably and went back to his work. 

HTHE HEAT was increasing. The 
low built, speedy car hurtled 
ahead, its rubber treads flashing 
under it, bouncing into the air now 
and then, to hit fifteen or twenty 
yards further ahead and gather 
speed once more. 

Within, triple shock absorbers 
killed the vibration. The car was a 
traveling fortress, filled with scien- 
tific materials, food supplies and 
light armaments. There remained 
just room to accommodate its five 
occupants, officially entered on the 
Fitzroy records as the Granger Ex- 
ploration Party. 

Ahead of them now, under the 
purple shadows of the Mountain of 


Spawn, a city was springing out of 
the desert. Bits of it seemed to arise 
and take shape in the misty shad* 
ows of later afternoon. Gradually 
the people in the exploration car 
grew quiet. Les Brandon looked up 
from his desk and stared ahead, over 
Eve Granger’s golden head at the 
city. Jenny forgot to quarrel with 
her husband and John Granger 
gripped the levers more tightly and 
fought with the rocket motors to 
get just a little more speed. 

This was Launn, City of the Dead. 

This was the center of a vast civil- 
ization in an arid desert country 
where people supposedly did not ex- 
ist Abruptly the desert ceased and 
the first towers of Launn rose ab- 
ruptly toward the sky. They were 
slim and cylindrical, made of the 
daintiest crystal, yet designed never 
to fall. Launn was laid out in a vast 
circle beneath the forboding crags 
of the Mount of Spawn. It nestled 
there on the edge of the Plain of 
Parna, like a huge, delicately cut 
jewel, lovely as a diamond yet nes- 
tled in a setting of dust and grim 
shadows. 

John Granger was the first to 
speak. 

“I have come back to Launn,” he 
said softly. “I said ten years ago 
that I would return. I made that 
promise to the Prince. I wonder,” his 
voice was strangely choked with 
emotion, “if there is still time?” 

He had married Eve, ten years his 
junior, when he returned from his 
first pilgrimage to Launn. Brandon 
was a good man, but he had been in 
high school then. PeeWee Hudson 
and his wife were almost strangers 
to Granger. PeeWee had been added 
for his brawn and Jenny because she 
cooked food that no expedition 
could afford to be without. 

“John,” Eve Granger’s voice was 


44 


AMAZING STORIES 


a trifle awed, “those towers and the 
low, beautifully designed buildings 
below them? They are full of the 
dead?” 

Granger nodded. 

“Dead? Yes, according to our 
standards. Stiff yet natural, like 
frozen marble. I wonder if they are 
actually dead?” 

“We'll pray that they aren't, Pro- 
fessor/' Brandon said suddenly. His 
voice, cool, businesslike, startled the 
dreamlike atmosphere of the conver- 
sation. “The melform injections may 
do the trick.” 

His eyes were bright. His voice, 
untouched by the spell of magic felt 
by the others, sounded mechanical 
and like a college student reciting 
a lesson. There wasn't a bit of ro- 
mance in Brandon, Eve Granger 
thought, and it made her resent him 
strangely. Brandon was miscast in 
this dream world. Brandon was— too 

well — too darn down to earth. She 

shivered, letting the twisting, reel- 
ing shadows and the purple mists 
catch hold of her soul. This was a 
wonderful place. A land of dreams 
and of death. 

“I suggest that we avoid the city 
tonight,” Brandon said, his words 
clipped and professional. 

John Granger nodded. 

“Memories urge me to rush in at 
once to revisit the palace,” he said. 
“Yet I know you’re right. There 
have been changes. It might not be 
safe. We'll establish camp close to 
the walls and go in when morning 
brings better light.” 

F»VE GRANGER turned hurriedly 
in her seat, disappointment 
clouding her pretty face. 

“Oh — Les.” She looked at Bran- 
don. “There you go again. Always 
scientific and practical. How can 
you resist those lovely towers? I 


should think you’d want to see for 
yourself all the wonderful things 
John has been telling about all these 
years. Why don’t you get your nose 
away from the desk and be human 
for a little while?” 

PeeWee Hudson grunted a little, 
his only form of protest. He dared 
not speak aloud before Jenny, but 
he agreed with Brandon. Eve Gran- 
ger picked on Brandon most of the 
time. Brandon was all right. He was 
a whizz at medical science, and plen- 
ty cool. Plenty, PeeWee thought. 
Why didn’t the Granger dame keep 
her pretty mouth shut? 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Granger,” Bran- 
don said. “Your husband mentioned 
the insect people who caused him 
trouble during his last trip here. I 
wouldn't let the spell of the city 
catch me off guard if I were you. It 
might be well to be cautious.” 

The girl had turned around once 
more, her face red as she stared 
straight ahead. 

Brandon studied the back of her 
head for a minute, then returned to 
his papers. The car halted. 

John Granger climbed wearily 
from behind the control panel. 

“You and PeeWee set up camp,” 
he said. “Eve and I will go a bit 
closer to Launn and have a look 
around. Eve is quite anxious to sec 
the place.” 

“I wouldn’t suggest...” 

“We didn’t ask for suggestions,” 
Eve Granger snapped. She followed 
her husband down the small ladder 
to the desert floor. “Set up the 
tents, Les. That's your style. Be sure 
your netting is snug tonight. A lit- 
tle green insect man might creep in 
and pinch you on the leg.” 

They waited until John Granger 
and his wife were some distance 
away. Then PeeWee Hudson lum- 
bered down the stairs and started to 



CITY OF THE DEAD 


45 


open the freight compartment. He 
was busy pulling out the carefully 
rolled silkeen tents when Brandon 
descended the stairs, stretched and 
stared after John and Eve Granger, 
tiny specks against the horizon. 

“Never mind that broad,” PeeWee 
said in a voice filled with disgust. 
“She ain’t got brains enough to come 
in outa the wet. You’re okay, Mr. 
Brandon. What you said was right.” 

Brandon turned absently and gave 
him a hand with the tent poles. 

“I’m not so sure that I am,” he 
said mildly. “You know, Mrs. Gran- 
ger has real spirit. I admire spirit.” 

“Jeez,” Hudson said. “Jeez, but 
you can take an awful lickin’ and 
come back for more.” 

“It’s a pity you can’t be polite to 
women, PeeWee Hudson.” PeeWee 
ducked instinctively as Jenny came 
toward them. “Now rattle your bones 
around and get that camp stove set 
up. We’re all too hungry to listen to 
your tongue rattle.” 

PeeWee Hudson winked at Bran- 
don. 

“You see what I mean,” he said in 
a low voice. “Women are a lot 
aftsre.” 

What’s that?” Jenny Hudson’s 
ears were tuned to just such con- 
versatio«al undertones. 

PeeWee straightened up, carrying 
the stov«*> and went toward her with 
it. 

“I said women are all right,” Pee- 
Wee said. “Say Jenny, you gonna 
give us some more of that Fitzroy 
special tonight? That’s the best 
bread I ever did eat.” 

Jenny sniffed. 

“You’re kiddin’ again, PeeWee,” 
she said, but it was evident that she 
was pleased. “You go out there and 
make sure the Professor is all...” 
“BONG” 


'JpHE CLEAR, deep notes of a bell 
silenced her abruptly. The three 
of them pivoted as one toward the 
rapidly darkening city of Launn. 

‘What the heck was that?” Pee- 
Wee inquired. 

One of them darned corpses com- 
ing to life, Jenny said in an awed 
voice. “I knew we shouldn’t ” 
“BONG” 

The sound came again, the distant 
pealing of a great bell, vibrating 
against the thin air. 

Brandon dropped the tent-roll 
which he had started to assemble. 

“Get the fire pistols,” he shouted. 
“I’ll bring the rifles from the cabin. 
Jenny, you stay with the car and 
keep the fire gun ready. We may 
need you.” 

Brandon’s voice was urgent and 
filled with something more compel- 
ling than fear. Without a word, Jen- 
ny and PeeWee Hudson made their 
way swiftly to the car. Hudson came 
out with two small, wicked looking 
pistols. He caught up with Brandon 
who was already on his way across 
the sands. 

“What you figure is wrong?” 
Hudson ran as fast as his heavy 
body would allow. He had to strug- 
gle to keep up with Brandon who 
moved swiftly, easily, in long, run- 
ning strides. 

“The green men Granger told us 
about,” Brandon snapped. “Jenny 
was wrong about the dead ones. 
They can’t harm us. It’s the living 
we must worry about.” 

They reached the outskirts of 
Launn and because he had heard 
long detailed accounts of the city 
from John Granger’s lips, Brandon 
knew where he was going. Low, 
colorful buildings closed in about 
them. Empty doorways, empty 
streets, silent, tomb-like places swal- 
lowed them up. 


46 


amazing stories 


Where was the bell?” 

PeeWee Hudson was beginning to 
get his wind. Away from Jenny, his 
courage arose. 

“From the palace, I think,” Bran- 
don said. “John and Mrs. Granger 
must have gone there in spite of my 
advice. They’ve met the insect men. 

God alone knows ...” 

He stopped trying to talk, and 

conserved his breath. The city was 
a wonderful place, but he had no 
time to notice it now. He was aware 
only that the gong had rung twice 
and was now silent. That he and 
PeeWee Hudson had to save their 

friends from death. 

He had heard about the gong. 

“If a visitor dares enter Launn and 
does not return, the gong sounds,” 
John Granger had told him years 
ago. “After the gong sounds, it is but 
a matter of time before the body is 
found. Launn is a beautiful place, 
haunted with grim, stalking death. 

Damn Eve Granger, Brandon 
thought. If her anxiety to see Launn 
tonight had resulted in her husband s 
death, the exp?oration would be use- 
less. Women, in young Brandon’s es- 
timation, were thick headed, lovely 
fools. 

r pHE PALACE was close to the 
-*• outskirts of the city. Brandon 
had it in his mind as , clearly as 
though he had been here a hundred 
times. Even as he saw it, he remem- 
bered Granger's first description, 
and could not change a word of it. 
His feet pounded up the wide mar- 
ble stairs. He heard PeeWee Hudson 
close behind. 

“A palace beyond description with 
great beauty and unity of design,” 
Granger had said. “Built low to the 
ground, with crystal spires rising 
from its many terraces. Spires that 
point upward until you fear they 


might pierce the sky. The terraces 
were barren of life, but shimmering 
under the radiance of millions of 
strange jewels set into the floors and 
the walls. The palace of Launn is a 

wonderful place.” 

Those had been Granger’s words, 
and Brandon thought as he charged 
across the first terrace, that this 
was not wonderful, but a treacher- 
ous, death-filled morgue. 

He hardly noticed the two silent 
guards in blue who stood on each 
side of the doors as he threw them 
open. His eyes were focused down 
the long tapestry hung hall, and at 
the scene in the throne room be- 
yond. 

The insect men of John Grangers 
memory. 

He kept on running, the fire pistol 
in one hand, the powerful fire rifle 
in his other. He heard Hudson swear 

loudly behind him. 

At the entrance of the throne 
room, Brandon stopped short, his 
eyes wide with amazement. 

The room was huge, a crystal ceil- 
ing shimmering high above in the 
pale light. In the center of the great 
room, seated on a high throne, was 
the dead Prince of Launn, blond 
headed, garbed in a rich, crimson 
robe, his clear eyes staring over 
the mob below him. Staring into in- 
finity— into the land beyond life. 

John and Eve Granger were at. 
his feet, their arms and legs bound 
with bits of their own clothing. 

About them, crawling like a vast 
hoide of huge ants, the insect men 
of Launn were swarming. Brandon’s 
eyes swept the scene hurriedly, des- 
perately, yet the details were so ter- 
rible that he remembered them for- 
ever after. 

The insect men were three feet 
long, and their faces, yellow and 
beaked, looked strangely human. Be- 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


47 


yond that, all resemblance to human 
beings ended abruptly. THeir bodies 
were an unhealthy green and their 
forearms were jointed and hinged 
like the arms of a lobster. Their bod- 
ies were fat and puffy and they 
propelled themselves by four hind 
feet that kicked spasmodically, send- 
ing them scuttling along at a tre- 
mendous speed. The floor was cov- 
ered with a green slimy substance 
that seemed to come from them as 
they scurried along the floor. 

Brandon saw two insect men dart 
in and nip at Granger with the long 
forearms. 

He charged in among them, toss- 
ing aside the fire pistol and pull- 
ing back the trigger that opened the 
full power of the fire rifle. 

TT MUST have been the sudden 
A surprise that caught them off 
guard and sent them scuttling for 
protection. 

Brandon lost all sense of caution. 
He moved ahead steadily, never giv- 
ing ground, always with that sear- 
ing, fire-trail of death cutting ahead 
of him. He saw three of them start 
to, drag Granger away. Taking 
chance at hitting his friend, he man- 
aged to kill the creatures. The room 
was silent now. One or two of the 
dying insect men tried to rise, and 
fell again, to roll over with their 
terrible limbs protruding in the air. 

He was at Granger’s side, fighting 
with the knots that held him. 

“Thank God,” he heard Granger 
mumble. 

Eve’s face was very white and as 

# 

he helped her to her feet, she leaned 
against him heavily. 

“You’ll be all right,” he said. 

She was crying hysterically. Her 
husband came to her. 

“We’ve got to get out of here be- 
fore they return,” he said, and they 


started unsteadily for the door. 
Pee Wee Hudson followed, still 
swearing loudly at the dead and dy- 
ing he left behind. The throne room 
was a shambles. As Brandon hurried 
after his friends, he took one last 
look at the dead Prince. 

The Prince was as he had first 
seen him, serene and calm in death. 

ORANDON led the way back to 
the camp. Eve Granger efused 
to speak to him again. Brandon knew 
how she and her husband felt. They 
had entered the city against their 
own better judgment. That they 
were still alive was due to better 
luck than either of them deserved. 

“I’ll admit as much,” Granger said 
when they were once more near their 
own fire and under the protection 
of the heavy gun mounted in the 
car. “Eve and I were fools. We ven- 
tured too far into the city. They 
attacked us in the streets and car- 
ried us to the palace. Admit, Eve, 
that Les was no cream puff. He 
saved our lives.” 

Eve Granger didn’t answer. She 
turned away from the group, back 
toward the city. 

Granger hesitated, then embar- 
rassed at her behaviour, cleared his 
throat and went on talking. 

“Good job, Brandon. The insect 
men know I’m back and they know 
why. For that reason, they’re hostile 
toward me, though I’ve never harmed 
any of them before. From now on, it 
will be a battle of the death.” 

Dinner was consumed and the fire 
died out. Jenny Hudson basked in 
the glory of having produced a good 
meal and PeeWee fell asleep under 
the car. 

For a long time after the others 
were asleep, Brandon stood on the 
desert, staring at the strange city 
of Lauhn. Something stirred within 


48 


AMAZING STORIES 


him that he could not explain. Why 
had Eve refused to be his friend? 
It had never mattered much to him 
what any woman said or thought. 
Yet, tonight he was vaguely dis- 
tressed by her attitude. He decided 
that she was just another bull head- 
ed member of her ungrateful sex, 
and tried to let it go at that. Still, 
he was worried and could not sleep 
when at last he tied the netting 
around his cot and sought rest. He 
kept remembering her warning of this 
afternoon. 

“Be sure to sleep with your * net- 
ting tied tightly.’* 

He swore and turned on his back, 
staring up at the clear, crazy pat- 
tern of a strange sky. 

Eve Granger, he decided, wa3 get- 
ting under his skin. 

SCT THINK,” John Granger said 
quietly, ‘‘that we should tour 
the city in the desert car. I suggest 
that one person remain in the car 
to cover any side trips we wish to 
make into the various buildings. In 
that way, the insect men will be un- 
able to surprise us.” 

The small party had gathered 
early, the camp was dismantled and 
packed away in the car. They were 
ready for the first official visit to 
Launn. 

“The plan is a good one,” Bran- 
don said. “After last night, we face 
danger at every corner.” 

Eve Granger who had failed to 
offer anything to the conversation 
thus far, suggested a little sarcastic- 
ally: 

“Perhaps you should stay in the 
car, Mr. Brandon. It may not be 
safe. . .” 

“Eve,” John Granger interrupted 
almost harshly, “if you can’t be civil 
this morning, I think you’d be bet- 
ter off away from us all. You may 
drive.” 


The girl’s face flushed crimson, 
but she didn’t reply. She went hur- 
riedly up the ramp and into the nav- 
igation room of the vehicle. In five 
minutes they were entering Launn. 

With the coming of daylight, the 
city was more beautiful than ever. 
For an hour they cruised up wide 
colorful streets, across sparkling la- 
goons and over tower ramps, high 
above the earth level. 

At last Granger asked that the 
car be halted before a small, com- 
pact building constructed of colored 
bricks. 

“Here,” he said solemnly, “we will 
see for the first time what devastat- 
ing effect the Power had on the peo- 
ple of Launn.” 

They had long ago learned to 
speak of it as the Power. No one 
knew what had happened to the peo- 
ple of Launn. Something had killed 
them while life was proceeding at * 
normal pace. The Power had stopped 
all action suddenly, like a clock that 
runs down and cannot continue to 
tick. 

They left the car quietly. Bran- 
don was thinking of the handsome 
Prince of Launn whom he had seen 
last night. A man caught in the 
prime of life, sitting on his throne, 
staring with sightless eyes over the 

heads of green insects. 

# 

John Granger took the lead, open- 
ing the door to the building. They 
crowded into the doorway, Jenny 
Hudson and her husband, PeeWee, 
John Granger and Brandon. None 
of them spoke for a long time. Then 
Jenny said in a hushed voice: 

“Dozens of them. All nice looking, 
too, and deader than herring.” 
Granger sighed. 

“Dead? We hope not. Perhaps. . . ?’* 
The room must have been a place 
of worship. It was large, decorated 
with huge murals of finest crafts- 
manship. Delicate crystal windows 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


49 


allowed the morning light to sift 
across row upon row of still, intel- 
ligent faces. Every person in the 
room was spotlessly robed in white 
silk. Every person, and there were 
hundreds of them, was staring sight- 
lessly at the empty altar near the far 
end of the room. It was like a huge 
exhibit in a wax museum, Brandon 
thought. A perfect reproduction of 

life frozen in death. 

He turned away and his eyes sought 
Eve Granger, still sitting above them 
in the cab of the car. She was frown- 
ing. 

He heard the door close behind 

him and Granger said : 

“All over the city, .barbers, actors 
on the stage, craftsmen at their 
work, society people, bathing, read- 
ing, living in their homes. The Pow- 
er caught them all, rich and poor 
alike. Preserved them thus.” 

I T WAS close to night once more, 
and they had seen it all. Seen 
everything that John Granger had 
waited and fought to return to for 
ten long years. 

The car halted in a huge park. 
‘‘This will be satisfactory,” Gran- 
ger said. “The lagoon will supply 
water. The turf is clear for a hun- 
dred yards in any direction. The in- 
sect men can’t steal up without being 

seen.” 

In an hour they had established 
camp. 

After that, Brandon wandered 
around by himself, careful to stay 
within range of the heavy fire guns 
that PeeWee Hudson kept watch 
over in the car. Eve Granger was 
hard at work with Jenny Hudson. 
They were working over the dinner. 
John Granger had retired to his 
maps of the city, where every per- 
son in Launn was recorded as a 
small V on roll after roll of white 
map paper. 


The plan was simple, Brandon 
thought. Of seven serums he had 
prepared, they hoped that one would 
revive the population, or at least 
part of it. After that, Granger 
would work methodically until ev- 
ery small ‘x’ had been erased, until 
every person in Launn was alive. 
Then would come the months, per- 
haps years, of study. The master 
plan was to take from these people 
a culture that would be invaluable 

on earth. 

There was no doubt in Brandon’s 
mind that this was a far advanced 
civilization. 

What had caused its death? 

In addition to the cultural aspect, 
Brandon couldn’t shake from his 
mind the stern, compelling face of 
Phillip Jordon, the man who had 
fought their plans until the last mo- 
ment. From Fitzroy, giant liners took 
valuable Sulphana to earth. Yet, no 
one knew where it came from. Per- 
haps from Launn? 

He thought that they had not 

heard the last of Jordon. Jordon was 
a hard man, and if they came even 
close to stumbling on to the source 
of Sulphana, Jordon would be there 
to protect his interests. 

Did the dead people of Launn 
know the secret of Sulphana? Per- 
haps. Time would tell. If they did, 
Jordon must have found it by acci- 
dent. Launn had been dead for many 
centuries. How many; no one knew. 
Brandon shrugged. That would come 
later. As long as Jordon left them 
alone, there was other work to be 
done. He must help Granger first. 
Help the man regain his position in 
society and in the great Weston 
Foundation. That meant more to 
Granger than a fortune in Sulphana. 
Meant more than life itself, and 
Granger was no longer a young man. 

Granger’s age turned Brandon’s 
thoughts to Eve. Granger’s wife was 


50 


AMAZING STORIES 


a young, selfish woman. Granger 
should never have married her. He, 
Brandon, had to get his mind off 
Eve. She wasn’t good for him. 
Wasn’t good for any of them. 

Above the park, the lofty, black 
crags of the Mountain of Spawn 
pushed toward the city. The cliffs 
seemed to reach out like shadows, 
closing in upon him. He drew his 
*.unic closer and walked back to the 
! camp. Jenny Hudson was dishing 
out savory bowls of turtle soup. He 
. forgot for a time the grasping shad- 
ows of the mountain. 

UT I’LL swear she was sound 
asleep at six this morning,’ ” 
Jenny Hudson said. “Pee Wee snores, 
poor thing. I'm not used to sleeping 
in the same room with him. He woke 
me up at six and I took a peek 
through the curtain at Mrs. Granger. 
She was sound asleep.” 

John Granger returned from his 
search of the lagoon. His face was 
lined with worry. He managed to 
keep his voice calm. 

4 Brandon, I’m afraid I’m respon- 
sible for Eve’s disappearance,” he 
said. “I spoke harshly to her last 
night. She’s not accustomed to this 
sort of thing. Lived a sheltered life 
at Brighton. I depended on her to 
pull out of it in a week or two. 
She’s not a bad sort of girl.” 

Pee Wee took the heavy gun and 
started toward the desert. He said, 

“I think you’d better stay with Jen- 
ny. I’ll try some of the streets near 
the palace.” 

It was eight in the morning. Jenny 
had called Eve Granger at seven. It 
was then that the search had started. 
Les Brandon had missed his small 
bag, the one that contained the in- 
jection needles. 

He had his own theory of Eve’s 
disappearance. Thus far he had de- 


cided not to pass it on to the others. 

I don t feel right about staying 
here not helping,” Granger said. “I 
guess Jenny needs me.” 

“Jenny Hudson can take care of 
herself,” the fat woman said stub- 
bornly. 1 11 sit up there near the 
fire cannon and if any of them 
darned green bugs show up, I’ll blast 
them into Kingdom-Come.” 

Granger turned appealingly to 
Brandon. 

Brandon nodded. 

“I guess Jenny’s right,” he said. 

Together they started toward the 
palace. 

Brandon had noticed as time went 
on that Launn started getting under 
a man’s skin. The uncanny silence 
was disturbing. Here was a great 
c *ty, perfectly in order, without 
movement or sound within its limits. 
Here, behind every door, dead peo- 
ple stood or sat on their jobs, a sit 
down strike that struck horror to the 
heart of any man. People had sat 
for perhaps ten centuries, their 
bodies in perfect condition, without 
movement or life. A city suspended 
in time. 

They reached the palace. They 
went down the great hall toward the 
throne room. 

With the injection case gone, 
Brandon guessed that Eve Granger 
might have decided to get revenge 
of sorts for the manner in which 
they had treated her. 

J_TE REACHED the court room, to 
see that the dead Prince was 
still on his throne. Nothing had been 
touched. 

Then he had been wrong. In guess- 
ing at Eve’s actions, he assumed that 
the Prince would be the first per- 
son she might try to restore to life. 

She would, in this manner prove to 
them that she was not helpless but 



CITY OF THE DEAD 


51 


was entirely able to become a work- 
ing member of the group. 

Granger watched him circle the 
throne slowly, then curiosity made 
him question Brandon. 

“You think that Eve would have 
come here?" 

Brandon nodded. 

“My injection case was missing/' 
he said. “I didn't tell the others." 

Granger thought for some time. 
Then he nodded. 

“That sounds like Eve all right. 
Headstrong as she is, she may have 
hoped to steal some of our glory to 
prove herself fit." 

“Evidently not," Brandon said. 

He started back toward the outer 
doors. The palace was silent. The 
sun, coming in the doors, made 
strange designs on the rugs. 

Halfway to the open doors, he 
stopped abruptly. Something was 
wrong with the picture he saw. 
Something that he couldn't quite put 
his finger on. 

He stood still, staring at the rich 
rugs, the pictures of royalty that 
that hung on the • wall. Then it 
dawned on him. 

“ The blue guards,” he said aloud. 

John Granger’s eyes widened with 
amazement. 

“The what?" 

Brandon started to run toward the 
door. 

“The blue guards," he repeated. 
“Remember, last night there were 
two guards, one on each side of the 
door. They were tall men, dressed 
in blue. They're gone ” 

They were gone. He found the 
faint dust prints where they had 
been standing. The . men had disap- 
peared. He stared at Granger. 

“Could it have been Eve?" 

Granger's face was red with anger. 

“The people of Launn have been 
still for centuries," he said. 


“The insect men have made no at- 
tempt to molest them. Draw your 
own conclusions." 

DRANDON started to run back to- 
ward the car where Jenny Hud- 
son stood guard. 

“If Eve really succeeded with the 
injections," he shouted as he ran, 
“then more power to her. I hadn't 
dared hope for success so soon. She 
will probably return to the car at 
once." 

Granger was panting. 

“To laugh at us," he offered. “Yes, 
that would be Eve’s first thought." 

They slowed their pace as they 
reached the park. Jenny Hudson 
turning the barrel of the big gun on 
them, was waiting for them to ap- 
proach. Once they were within hear- 
ing distance, Brandon shouted: 

“Has Eve returned?" 

Jenny shook her head. 

“PeeWee came back ten minutes 
ago," she said. “He met a couple of 
gents in blue pajamas and had to 
shoot the daylights out of them. 
They were going to murder my Pee- 
Wee. He's gone toward the palace 
to meet you. I told him you went 
that way." 

Brandon swore softly. 

“If I find that woman," he said 
grimly under his breath. 

John Granger sank to the grass 
and lowered his gun. 

“Pound the living daylights out 
of her," he suggested. “I would my- 
self, if I was sure I could handle her 
— and that we'll still find her alive." 

Something exploded in the street, 
far away, in the direction they had 
come. It sent a strange, colorful rain- 
bow of sparks above the tops of the 
buildings. It sank down again, and 
Launn was silent once more. 

“PeeWee's found something," Jen- 


52 


AMAZING STORIES 


nie cried excitedly. “He took a Bar- 
ton* flare with him. Said if he used 
it to come in a hurry.” 

Brandon reached the ramp on the 
car with one long jump. Granger 
was close behind. Before Granger 
had time to close the door, Bran- . 
don had the rocket jets firing rapid- 
ly. The car heaved loose from the 
soft earth of the park and lunged 
into the street. They gathered speed, 
moving rapidly toward the spot 
where the Barton flare had explod- 
ed. Brandon shouted up through the 
hatch to the gunroom. 

“Get that gun ready, Jenny. You 
may have to shoot your way through 
to PeeWee.” 

He heard Jenny chuckle with 
satisfaction and knew that she would 
be ready. John Granger was busy 
breaking out the ammunition for the 
fire rifles. 

CVE GRANGER slipped quietly 
from the cot and tip-toed 
through Jenny Hudson’s tiny room, 
into Les Brandon’s laboratory. She 
found the bag of injection needles 
quickly, opened it to make sure they 
were all there, then snapped the bag 
closed again. 

With it tightly under her arm she 
made her way silently out of the 
car. All was quiet. Launn, asleep, 
was so quiet in the early morning 
that it frightened her. 

Her instructions were simple. 

“Stay with the party until you 
reach Launn,” Phillip Jordon had 
told her that last night on earth. 
“Steal Brandon’s injection case. He 
has only one set of needles. Meet 
me in the palace.” 

He had leaned close to her then, 
and with one arm about her waist, 

said: 

* Barton flare — colorful rescue rocket used 
in Earth Rocket system* 


“Don’t be frightened, darling. 
Your husband cannot harm you. 
I’ll be waiting in a room be- 
low the palace. You will be met 
by insect men. They are my friends 
and you needn’t fear them. They 
will take you directly to me.” 

She knew that Phillip had fol- 
lowed her all the way from Fitzroy. 
He had left a note for her there, 
hiding it cleverly in her compact 
when she left it on the table in her 
room. 

“Courage, beloved. A few more 
days and we will be together” 

Eve Granger loved Phillip Jordon. 
Loved him because he was strong 
and ugly and so full of cold courage 
that nothing frightened him. She 
looked back at the car once as she 
left the park. 

John Granger? Yes, she had 
cared for him once.* Cared for him 
as a daughter did her father. Now 
she knew what real love was. Knew 
the strength in Jordon’s arms. The 
fierce impatience of the man. He 
wasn’t handsome as Brandon was 
handsome, or kind as Granger. He 
was an adventurer, fearing nothing. 
A godless, powerful man. Phillip 
Jordon was his own god. 

She hurried, almost ran, toward 
the palace. She cursed Brandon for 
interfering last night. If it were not 
for Brandon, she would have seen 
Jordon then. 

At the palace she didn’t hesitate. 
She went on into the throne room. 
Her footsteps were loud against the 
stone floor, and as it had last night, 
the sound of her shoes against the 
stone brought the green insect crea- 
tures from their hiding places. 

She felt herself grow taut and 
frightened inside. She stood very 
still while they moved about her, 
coming close, but never quite dar- 
ing to touch her body. 


53 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


“Phillip,” she called. Her voice 
was loud and it echoed through the 
chamber. “Phillip.” 

She heard him answer her. 
“Coming— Don’t be alarmed.” 

The fear went out of her and in 
its place, a new warmth flowed. 

H E CAME from the shadowy hall 
behind the throne. His arms 
were around her and they embraced 
as they had secretly at his apartment 
so many weeks ago. 

“You brought the bag?” 

She looked up at the lean, eager 
face, the hard lips, and worshipped 
his strength. She held the bag of 
injection needles out to him and he 

took them eagerly. 

“Good. We must hide soon, but 

first, come with me...” 

He walked swiftly toward the out- 
er doors of the palace. As he walked, 
he talked to her. The green insect 
men scuttled along behind them, 
making queer noises, leaving those 
•green trails of slime behind them 
on the floor. Phillip Jordon stopped 
beside one of the dead guards and 
put the bag on the floor. 

“I must make sure,” he said. “I’m 
not sure Brandon has the right stuff. 
He’s clever — though — perhaps . . . ?” 

He slipped one of the needles 
from the bag and held it in his slim, 

• bony fingers. He closed one eye and 
stared through it at the clear, blue 
liquid. Satisfied, he opened the cuff 
of the shirt on the arm of one of 
the guards. He pressed the needle 
■ against the flesh, pushed brutally 
and pressed the fluid into the arm. 

Eve Granger caught her breath, 
staring at him with fascination 
“Do you think we have time?” 

“I don’t know,” he said. ‘Tm wor- 
ried about Granger. He’ll follow us.” 

He continued to stare at the stiff 
figure of the guard but no sign of 
life was evident. He drew out an- 


other needle, crossed the hall and 
repeated the process on the arm of 
the other guard. 

Neither of them moved. 

Jordon swore. 

“They’ll miss you by this time.” 

“I did the best I could,” she said, 
and pouted. “Phillip, you’re more in- 
terested in those corpses than you 
are in me.” 

He eyed her coolly. 

“Did anyone ever tell you that 
you’re a damned little fool?” he 
asked. 

QTARTLED, she stepped back a 
^ pace. Color mounted to her 
cheeks. 

“Phillip!” 

“You are,” he said. “You think 
you’re the first woman who’s ever 
fallen for me? You’re not. I’m just 
different enough to draw every little 
slut who wants to get rid of her 
husband.” 

Her eyes flashed suddenly. Her 
fists balled tightly. 

“If you think ” 

“I do,” he said, and reaching out, 
grasped her arm firmly. “I think I’m 
leaving here before I’m discovered 
and where I go, no woman will ever 
follow. You fell for that sympathetic 
love stuff on earth, and now you’ve 
done exactly what I wanted you to 
do. I have Brandon’s needles, and 
without them he hasn’t a chance of 
reviving the people of Launn. The 
sepret of Sulphana is safe and my 
work here is about over.” 

He twisted her arm slowly, bring- 
ing her closer to him. 

“Do you like my little pets, the 
insect men?” 

Eve Granger screamed then. 
Screamed and fainted in his arms. 
Jordon held her tightly, jerked off 
the screw top of the empty injection 
needle and filled it with one hand 
from a bottle he took from his pock- 


54 


AMAZING STORIES 


et. He replaced the cover quickly, 
pushed the needle into her arm and 
drained the tube. 

He dropped the girl on the floor 
and took a last look at the two guards 
by the door. Life color was mounting 
slowly in their cheeks. 

He chuckled at the sight. 

“The stuff is okay, Brandon,” he 
said to himself. ‘Til keep it, just in 
case.” 

He went back along the hall into 
the shadows and the insect men fol- 
lowed him like sulking, snarling 
dogs being led away from their prey. 

The girl on the floor did not move. 

pEEWEE Hudson was lumbering 
toward them with all the speed he 
could make. Over his shoulder was 
the inert figure of Eve Granger and 
behind him, as far as Brandon could 
see, were hordes of insect men. 

Brandon’s eyes were on the still 
figure of Eve Granger. Automatically 
he threw the motors of the car into 
reverse, backing slowly, waiting for 
Pee Wee to come alongside. He heard 
Granger shout: 

“Fire, Mrs. Hudson. For God’s 
sake, fire over your husband’s head.” 

He heard Jenny: 

“For Heaven’s sake, Mr. Granger. 
I never saw anything like...” 

The rest of her sentence was 
drowned out by the sinister sputter 
of the fire cannon. Brandon opened 
the door with one hand, watching the 
insect men close in. They were 
screaming with fright, dashing about 
in the street to escape the flame that 
showered them. Brandon heard Pee- 
Wee curse as he kicked a half a doz- 
en insect men away with his foot. 
Then Pee Wee and the girl were in 
the car and the door was closed. Gran- 
ger was firing as fast as he could re- 
load the fire rifle. Jenny’s cannon 
was singing a song of death. Brandon 
threw the car into reverse and they 


shot back to the corner. He man- 
euvered the machine swiftly, opened 
the jets and guided the machine to- 
ward the park. 

They had rescued Eve Granger too 
late. Her body was as stiff as any of 
the people of Launn. She had re- 
turned to them without the cane of 
injection needls. His last chance 
was gone, unless the needles could 
be found. 

He held no grudge against the girl 
who lay on the floor. He knew that 
she needed one of those needles her- 
self, for her body was rigid as her 
husband and PeeWee Hudson kneeled 
beside her. 

“Just like the stiffs here in Launn,” 
he heard PeeWee whisper. “I could 
feel her tighten up as I carried her.” 

He heard Granger, his head bent 
over his wife’s heart, weeping softly. 
It was the first time Brandon had 
seen a man cry, and it touched him 
strangely. 

The park was close and he drove 
into it, stalling the motors. It was a 
sad, desolate party of explorers who 
now faced the Power without instru- 
ments to save Launn. 

THHE CAR was very quiet. Les 
Brandon worked over crucibles 
in the tiny laboratory. John Granger 
sat alone with his books, trying to 
read, perspiration standing out on 
his forehead. Jenny Hudson was be- 
side the bunk on which Eve Granger 
lay, while PeeWee Hudson stood out- 
side, staring toward the palace and 
mumbling angrily under his breath. 
Brandon stood up suddenly and came 
through the low door into the sleep- 
ing compartment. Jenny looked up. 

“Did you find something?” 

Brandon shook his head. He kneeled 
beside the bunk and took Eve Gran- 
ger’s hand in his own. 

It was cold, and the flesh was grow- 
ing rigid. John Granger came in. 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


55 


“Isn’t there something we can do — 
at once?” 

Brandon said: 

“I don’t know. I found the hypo 
mark on her neck. Pee Wee says the 
insect men, as he calls them, had cap- 
tured her when he mowed into 
them with the fire rifle.” 

“Which means that they might have 
used any of two dozen different in- 
jections.” 

Brandon said: 

“Yes! Let’s look at it this way. The 
green men saw Eve inject shots into 
the blue guards. Later, Pee Wee shot 
the guards, thinking they were go- 
ing to attack him. The insect men 
used the needle, just as they saw 
Eve use it. 

“Here’s the problem. Eve is in a 
coma. Her flesh is hardening. I don’t 
understand why, for the formulas I 
prepared were based on chemicals to 
soften the flesh and restore life. I 
hadn’t anticipated an accident of this 
type, therefore I made no study of it. 
I have only one possible explanation. 
At least one of the needles contains 
a useless formula. A formula which 
kills instead of restoring life. I may 
be able to revive her. 

“It’s necessary that we find that 
bag of needles. Without them we’re 
helpless. In addition to that, Eve 
found a formula that works on the 
people of Launn. It will save a lot of 
time if we are able to get those empty 
tubes back. If we can determine which 
one she used.” 

John Granger was silent for some 
time. Then he turned to stare down at 
the still, white face of his wife. 

“Heart action stopped, suspended 
as though in death. Brandon, I don’t 
know. It was her fault, yet, somehow 
I can’t blame her.” 

Brandon shook his head. 

“Would it make you feel any bet- 
ter if I said that I feel the same 
way ?” 


Granger looked up with kind, 
steady eyes. 

“It would,” he said. 

“Look here, John,” Brandon said 
suddenly, “Eve’s headstrong and in- 
clined to be spoiled. That’s why it 
hurt like the devil when she took 
her bad temper out on me. I’ve spent 
years behind books and test tubes. 
Eve loves a good time and adven- 
ture. Because I’m not her idea of 
an exciting type, she’s taking her 
spite out on me.” 

Granger nodded. 

“I know.” 

“Understand me,” Brandon went 
on, “Eve and I will never get along. 
I’m going to try every way I know 
to save her. After that, I’m going to 
clear out of Launn and leave the 
field to you and Eve. You and I 
will never make a team as long as 
Eve feels as she does. As for me, 
well,” he shrugged, “I can’t take it, 
not the way she dishes it out.” 

He pivoted abruptly and went into 
the laboratory. The door closed be- 
hind him. For a long time, Jenny 
Hudson stared down at the quiet 
face of the girl in the bunk. She 
heard Granger leave the room. Jen- 
ny wasn’t soft, she kept telling her- 
self. Yet, she had to reach up oc- 
casionally and brush a tear from her 
eye. It made her angry at herself to 
express such emotion. 

*T»HE THREE men stood in the 
darkened throne room of the 
palace of Launn, 

Granger said: 

“I have never dared explore the 
palace beyond this room. It is here 
that the insect men lurk constantly. 
I believe that they have tunneled 
into the palace from below the city, 
and use the palace as their head- 
quarters.” 

“Good,” Brandon said. “Now — it 
seems to me that at any disturbance. 


56 


AMAZING STORIES 


they make their appearance here in 
this room before they are seen any- 
where else. PeeWee, can you hold 
them off?” 

Hudson grinned. He patted the 
barrel of the fire gun. 

“Bring on the green goblins,” he 
said. ‘Til take care of ’em.” 

“Behind the door, then,” Brandon 
said. “Give Granger and me time to 
get clear, then open fire.” 

Hudson took his position behind 
the heavy door. 

Brandon and Granger moved 
across the room, behind the throne 
and down a short passageway deeper 
into the palace. Suddenly Brandon 
stopped in his tracks and shouted. 

“PeeWee?” 

Hudson answered him. 

“I’m still here.” 

That, was what Brandon wanted. 
Their voices echoed throughout the 
palace. Brandon stood very still. 
Sounds came from beneath them, as 
though giant rats were running 
around below the floor. Then from 
the shadows at the far end of the 
hall, an ugly yellow face appeared. 
It was followed quickly by another. 
The insect men seemed to scuttle 
out of nowhere, like giant, repulsive 
roaches, their odd voices filling the 
place with screams. 

Brandon started to run back into 
the throne room. Granger was at his 
side. When they reached the room, 
they both stepped quickly out of 
range of Hudson’s gun. Hudson’s 
fire rifle started to roar a persistent 
song of death. 

Granger’s hand was on Brandon’s 
arm. 

“Come — quickly,” he said. 

The insects were falling about 
them. Hudson’s gun continued to 
spurt fire. The room was already 
growing quiet once more. 


DRANDON led the way back along 
the hall from the direction the 
insect men had come. In the corner 
he found a small door, still open, 
that led downward. They hurried 
through it. Hudson’s gun was still 
firing sporadically. The first wave 
of insect men was dead, but per- 
haps they would meet others. 

Stairs led deep under the palace. 
Then they came out into a dark hall 
under the throne room. Brandon felt 
his way along it silently. Granger 
was close behind. 

Thus far they met no interference. 

They came out into a small room. 
Sudden light blinded them. Light 
that came down a long shaft from 
above. Brandon stopped, his hand 
over his eyes, at first, then gradual- 
ly he could see. 

“ Good Lord!” 

It was Granger who first ex- 
pressed their amazement. 

The room, though small, was fur- 
nished beautifully with rich tapes- 
try, and deep divans. Colorful tile 
covered the walls and floor. 

In the direct center was a dupli- 
cate throne to the one above them. 
On the throne sat the loveliest girl 
Brandon had ever seen. Her long, 
blue black hair hung like fine silk 
around a white throat and over pale 
shoulders. Her dress was of the fin- 
est crimson silk and her lips were 
like petals, as deeply colored as her 
garment. She sat on a golden throne, 
and no one could mistake her iden- 
tity. 

“The Princess of Launn,” Granger 
gasped. “I had not dreamed that she 
existed. I thought I had found 
everyone in this strange city. Yet, 
she is here, hidden in this lost room, 
waiting as the Prince waits above 
us.” 

Brandon wasn’t listening. He went 
to his knees suddenly and picked up 
an empty, broken hypodermic nee- 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


57 


die, half hidden under the Princess’ 
long skirts. 

He studied it for a moment, then 
lifted the sleeve of the Princess’ 
dress very gently. There, inbedded 
in the flesh of her right arm was 
the broken needle. 

He swore softly. 

“If those devils had succeeded in 
bringing her to life...?” 

Something caught his attention 
and he sank to the floor once more 
and felt about under the throne. 
Granger heard him gasp. Then he 
reached far under the golden throne 
and pulled something into the light. 

It was the missing bag. He opened 
it with shaking fingers and started 
to count. Two needles were missing. 
Eve, he thought, had used one. The 
other was broken off in the Prin- 
cess’ arm. What of the third? The 
one they had supposed had been 
used on Eve. He stared up at Gran- 
ger. 

“At least we have a chance now,” 
he said. “Perhaps we can save Eve.” 

“Not so fast, gentlemen,” some- 
one said coldly. 

B RANDON, still kneeling, came to 
his feet swiftly, whirling around. 
He heard Granger catch his breath, 
then he saw the tall, cadaverous 
man at the door holding wicked 
looking ’tomic-pistols in each hand. 

“Phillip Jordon,” Granger said in 
a bewildered voice. “How...?” 

“How did so civilized a person as 
I manage to be so far from home? 
Is that the general idea of what you 
were going to ask?” 

Jordon came into the room slowly, 
his eyes almost satanic, ever watch- 
ful. 

Granger said no more. 

“I’ll tell you,” Jordon said, “but 
surely you don’t want to stand here 
to hear my explanation? It’s a long- 


winded affair, and if you’ll follow 
a few simple instructions, we’ll find 
a much more comfortable place in 
which to talk over our desires and 
ambitions.” 

He made an abrupt stabbing mo- 
tion toward the door and his upper 
lip curled slightly. 

“March!” 

Brandon started to pick up his 
bag. 

“Leave the needles here,” Jordon 
snapped. “I was enjoying a most 
interesting pastime when you in- 
terfered. You unnerved me for a mo- 
ment. In my clumsiness, I broke one 
of the needles. Later, I’ll work on 
the lovely young woman with more 
care. I’m interested in such a beauty 
—alive.” 

Brandon put the bag on the floor 
slowly. 

“You’re a coward, , Jordon,” he 
said slowly. “You’ve got two guns 
on your side now, but if we ever 
meet with the cards evenly divided, 
I’ll...” 

“Shut up,” Jordon snapped. “Now 
— march.” 

He followed them out of the room 
and into the dark passage. 

“Follow the wall with your fin- 
gertips,” he said. “It is quite a long 
way to where we are going.” 

The three men moved slowly 
along the wall. Brandon thought 
once of trying to escape in the dark- 
ness. When he halted Jordon said 
harshly : 

“Keep moving. I hear very well. 
I can shoot at the slightest sound.” 

“Better wait,” Granger whispered. 
“We’ll find out where Jordon fits 
into this. Later— we may have a 
chance. . .” 

Jordon chuckled. 

“You may as well talk aloud, Gran- 
ger. I told you I can hear almost 
anything.” 


58 


AMAZING STORIES 


The hall ended abruptly. 

“Feel about until you find the 
ring,” Jordon said. “It’s a door. Pull 
on the ring.” 

Brandon found the iron ring and 
pulled it. The big door opened to- 
ward him and beyond it was a well 
lighted area, probably fifty feet 
square, constructed of huge, rough- 
hewn stone. 

“In the far wall you’ll see another 
door,” Jordon said. “That’s where we 
end the journey.” 

Watching them carefully, he pro- 
duced a key, opened the second door 
and motioned them inside. 

/^RANGER went in first. His 
^ eyes were wide with amazement, 
but he remained silent. Brandon fol- 
lowed, and after him, Jordon locked 
the door from the inside. 

“Nice little home here among the 
dead,” Jordon said. “I like to be 
comfortable, as I must spend several 
weeks each year in this ungodly 
hole.” 

The place was large, and might 
have been the living room of any 
American home. The walls were in- 
sulated and painted a neat blue-gray r 
A huge desk occupied one corner of 
the place. Beyond it, there were a 
davenport, chair and small table. 
There were glassware, a neat bed 
made up with colorful blankets, 
everything one man could wish for 
comfortable living. 

“As you see,” Jordon said, “there 
is only room for one to live here. 
Three of us could never do it, but 
for a few minutes, you are welcome. 
After that, I have something to 
show you.” 

He moved to the desk and sat 
down. 

“You’re feeling very clever and 
sure of yourself,” Brandon said. 
“You’ve bathed yourself in mystery 


and power and you love the feeling .* 1 

Jordon smiled. 

“Sit down,” he said. 

He placed the pistols on the desk 
before him. 

“First, perhaps because as you 
say, I like the feeling of power, 
I’m going to share my mystery with 
you.” 

“It has to do with Sulphana, 
doesn’t it,” Brandon said. “Jordon, 
the unsung king of the Sulphana 
trust.” 

Jordon grinned. 

“Hell,” he said, enjoying himself 
immensely, “I am Sulphana. I found 
it, exploited it and let Weston in 
as a silent partner. Sulphana Inc. 
is just a front.” 

Brandon heard Granger gasp with 
amazement. No wonder, he thought. 
Weston posed as an honest research 
worker and led a huge non-profit 
organization. No wonder Weston 
had thrown Granger out on his ear. 

“Charles Weston wouldn’t like to 
hear you talk that way, Jordon,” he 
said gently. “Weston would be an- 
gry.” 

Jordon frowned. 

“To hell with Weston,” he said 
abruptly. “He’s just a stooge. I could 
break him over night. But back to 
Sulphana. You’re sitting on top of 
the only Sulphana producing factory 
in the planetary system.” 

Granger chuckled. He seemed to 
regain much of the spirit that had 
been looking for the past months. 
Brandon thought it was because of 
what Jordon said about Weston. 

“There are no factories running in 
Launn,” he said. “Jordon, you aren’t 
that smart.” 

Jordon arose. 

“Perhaps I’m not,” he said. “We’ll 
see.” 

TTE MOVED to the center of the 
room and went down on one 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


59 


knee. Pushing aside the rug, he fum- 
bled for an iron ring set in the 
stone, and lifted a small round trap- 
door. 

“Look down there,” he said, and 
backed away a safe distance. 

Brandon went first. He was care- 
ful not to get too close to the door. 
He stared down into a vast, semi- 
twilight. It was a lower cavern, and 
the floor of it, as far as he could 
see was covered with crawling in- 
sect people. He shuddered at the 
thought of being pushed down into 
that mess. The cavern was packed 
with them, crawling over and over 
each other. Then his eye saw one 
detail that had escaped his first 
glance. 

Directly below him, at the foot of 
a long iron ladder was a pile of 
what appeared to be pure Sulphana. 

He moved aside and let Granger 
look at the scene. He stood up and 
waited for Jordon to explain. 

“You once said in a report of 
yours,” Jordon said, “that Sulphana 
couldn't be broken down into known 
chemical units. You were right, 
Brandon, when you claimed it was 
a natural product of an animal or 
plant. That hive of insect people is 
like a hive of bees. They give off a 
green slime. When the slime hard- 
ens, it grows powdery. The dust is 
Sulphana, the greatest healer ever 
discovered.” 

Granger was still studying the 
scene below. 

“But how did you find...?” 

“Simple,” Jordon said. “Sulphana 
first came to Fitzroy when I was 
there on a tour of the planet. I ex- 
perimented with it and recognized 
its value. I found an old Burtell 
caravan master who knew where it 
came from. He said the natives of 
the Plain of Parna used it in curing 
their Burtells when they were in- 


fected or wounded. He found the 
stuff in a storage vat here in Launn. 

“When I came here the first time, 
some years before your first visit, 
I stumbled onto the insect men. The 
slime they secreted during their 
battle with me hardens and I dis- 
covered the source of Sulphana. 
Later, I traced them here and 
found the main body of workers in 
the cavern below. When Launn was 
alive, this must have been a great 
industry. 

“I found that by wearing a metal- 
lic suit, I could go down there with- 
out fear of them harming me. Their 
teeth are not long or sharp. Their 
stingers cannot penetrate metal. 

“Weston backed me and we went 
to work, quietly. That’s the story, 
gentlemen, and I regret that you 
can’t make use of it.” 

Brandon stood very still, his jaw 
grim. 

“Perhaps we can,” he said. 

Somewhere outside the room a 
scream of a returning insect man 
sounded. 

“I think not,” Jordon said swift- 
ly. “Wait — I must see if one of my 
pets has been harmed. They’ve 
grown quite fond of me — and I of 
them.” 

He pushed the door open. 

“Look out, you knock kneed son- 
uv-a-tadpole /” 

CVEN BRANDON was taken off 
guard by PeeWee Hudson’s bat- 
tle cry, as the huge ex-janitor came 
through the door in approved tackle 
style. He hit Jordon below the knees 
and sent him sprawling. One of Jor- 
don’s guns flew from his hands and 
hit the wall. He managed to fire the 
other and it tore a gapping hole in 
the wall near Brandon’s shoulder. 

“Think I can’t imitate one of the 
green heathens, do you,” Hudson 


60 


AMAZING STORIES 


shouted. “Take it easy with them 
guns.” 

He had Jordon by the coat collar 
now and was lifting him clear of 
the floor. He wrenched the other 
gun from Jordon’s hand and tossed 
it to Granger. 

“Better keep this, Mr. Granger,” 
he said. “Maybe next time I won’t 
be lucky enough to get here in 

time.” 

The picture of Jordon, hanging 
two inches from the floor at the end 
of Hudson's huge arm, was suddenly 
very funny to Brandon. So much had 
happened. In ten minutes, so 
many things had become clear. Jor- 
don, first so dangerous and sure of 
himself, looked like a dilapidated, 
sputtering clown. 

Brandon started to laugh. 

“Good Lord,” he said. “Let’s get 
out of here before we all go crazy. 
We’ve learned enough for one day.” 

“I wonder,” Granger said thought- 
fully. “I wonder if we can learn 
enough. Now that we know the is- 
sues at stake, the battle is just be- 
ginning.” , 

“The Melform injection fluid was 
in both tubes,” Brandon said. “That 
means that, regardless of what 
caused the deaths of the population, 
Melform will bring them back to 
life. Melform was used on both the 
blue guards. Jordon used a paralysis 
fluid on Eve. That had me fooled.” 

John Granger listened attentively. 
His was not medical knowledge. He 
was in charge of research work, 
when and if Launn was restored to 
life. Now, as they sat together in 
Brandon’s compartment, Granger’s 
face was gray and lined with worry. 
They had both agreed that the work 
must go on. That Eve stood a 
chance of recovery, and even now 
had been treated carefully and 
placed in Jenny’s care. 


“Then I say that we should set 
up the laboratory in the square be- 
fore the palace,” Granger suggest- 
ed. “As men and women are re- 
vived, we will attempt to explain 
what we are doing and solicit their 
help. In a short time, if all goes 
well, we can establish a large clin- 
ic.” 

“Fortunately,” Brandon added, 
“Melform can be made from a high- 
ly concentrated drug I have brought 
in large quantities. It is one of the 
simplest of all the types. The the- 
ory is to soften the body and stimu- 
late circulation.” 

pEEWEE HUDSON came from 
* his post at the far side of the 
car. His face was grim and the fire 
rifle he had used so often was still 
clutched tightly in his hands. 

“The green goblins don’t want to 
fight,” he said. “What do we do 
now?” 

Brandon explained the situation 
and the plan to establish a clinic. 
Hudson nodded delightedly. 

“Let’s get started,” he suggested. 
“Once we get a bunch of these 
Launn people on their feet, we’ll 
have an army to fight those green 
hob-goblins. They ain’t done with 
us yet.” 

Jenny stuck her head out of the 
upper door and shouted excitedly: 

“That Melform stuff seems to be 
working. Mrs. Granger is beginning 
to breathe.” 

They rushed into the car and 
Brandon spent a bad five minutes 
with Eve Granger. The heart beat 
was very slow at first, staggering, 
and at times stopping completely. 
Then color started to show in her 
cheeks. The flesh of her arms soft- 
ened and grew pink. Her eyes 
opened. 

She saw John Granger, her hus- 
band, first, his worried eyes on her. 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


61 


Tears started to course slowly down 
her cheeks and she tried to speak. 

He pressed his fingers to her fore- 
head. 

“It’s all right now/' he said. 
“You’re going to be all right. You’re 
safe in the car.” 

Her lips moved. 

He leaned close, trying to under- 
stand her words. She was trying des-. 
perately to say something to him and 
at last he could hear her faint whis- 
per. 

“I’m — I’m sorry. I’ve been an 
awful fool.” 

Granger leaned close and kissed 
her gently on the cheek. There was 
no mistaking the flood of color that 
tinged her face. Granger looked up. 
There was a suggestion of a smile 
on Brandon’s lips. 

npHE PRINCE of Launn lay on a 
stretcher under the warmth of 
the afternoon sun. The square was 
large, and the car, with the stretch- 
er at its side, looked very small and 
unimportant in the center of so vast 
a place. 

PeeWee was in the upper com- 
partment, his hand on the barrel of 
the fire cannon. Eve Granger, still 
weak, lay where she could look out 
the window and down at the scene 
below. 

Brandon, in his white frock, drew 
a sterilized needle from the steril- 
izer, pressed the needle to the arm 
of the Prince and pressed gently. He 
released the fluid into the dead arm, 
withdrew the needle, covered the 
tiny spot with a sterilized bandage 
and straightened. He stared across 
the stretcher at John Granger. 

“Now — time will tell.” 

Launn seemed even more silent in 
those moments. Brandon’s wrist 
watch ticked so loudly that he could 
count the seconds. Granger walked 


a short distance away, returned and 
placed his fingers on the Prince’s 
pulse. He shook his head. 

“The mixture may not work the 
same in all cases.” 

Brandon shook his head. 

“It has to,” he insisted. “What- 
ever happened to one, must have 
happened to them all. The results 
would be the same.” 

Three minutes passed — then four. 
Jenny, at Eve Granger’s side, stared 
out of the window with wide eyes. 
PeeWee was leaning out the open 
hatchway above, the cannon forgot- 
ten. Then something moved gently 
on the stretcher. The wind? It 
could not be. The square was still. 
No breeze stirred. 

“His fingers,” John Granger said 
tensely. “Watch his fingers.” 
Brandon smiled. 

“I noticed,” he said. 

“He’s — alive,” Granger said tense- 

ly ' • . 

The fingers, then the entire right 

arm moved, flexed and bent at the 
elbow. The man’s eyes opened and 
stared upward. Blank amazement 
was in those eyes, then came fear, 
so pathetic that Brandon pitied the 
Prince from the bottom of his heart. 

“You’re going to be all right,” he 
said quietly and placed his palm on 
the Prince’s forehead. The man 
flinched. His neck muscles were 
working. He turned his head and 
tried to get escape from Brandon’s 
hand. The body came alive. The 
Prince moved about on the stretch- 
er. 

“Walla,” he said. 

Brandon looked at Granger. 

“Have you any system for the 
study of their language?” 

Granger shook his head. 

“None,” he admitted. “We have no 
way of knowing how many centuries 
the city dates back into time.” 


62 


AMAZING STORIES 


T>RANDON waited. The Prince sat 
up weakly, leaning on one el- 
bow. He stared about at the deserted 
city, then at the two men. He seemed 
very puzzled at their presence. 

“Walla ?" he repeated. 

Brandon shook his head. 

“Can't understand you,” he said. 
“Sorry." 

He went into the car and came 
back with a bowl of Jenny's soup. 
He took a spoonful and held it to 
the Prince's lips. The Prince hesi- 
<?ted, then let the hot broth slip 
down his throat. A broad smile 
transformed his handsome face. 

“Goot." 

“That was evident enough," Gran- 
ger said happily. “Goot — Goodr- 
close enough to guess at." 

The Prince sat up. He started to 
struggle to his feet, and then fell 
back. His own weakness seemed to 
amaze him. Brandon helped him up. 
The Prince seemed to be trying to 
get back into the palace. Both Gran- 
ger and Brandon helped him, and 
Pee Wee Hudson stayed with the 
car. In the throne room, the Prince 
continued to stare around, puzzled, 
impatient with the silence. 

He turned to Brandon and re- 
leased a flood of odd, tangled words. 
Brandon shook his head again and 
the Prince seemed to know what he 
meant. He motioned toward the long 
passageway that went toward the 
rear of the palace. Stronger now, 
he carried himself well, and Bran- 
don was forced to admit that the 
man was one of the finest specimens 
lie had ever seen. 

They came to a small, metal stud- 
ded door and the Prince reached be- 
neath his robe and brought out a 
small key. He inserted it into a lock 
and pushed the door open. Brandon 
gasped. 

“A laboratory," he said in a low 


voice. “More complete than our 
own." 

The small room was well lighted 
from above. The Prince crossed the 
room and halted before a cabinet. 
He opened the door and tried to 
push Granger inside. Granger got 
the idea. He sat down and the Prince 
closed the door. He turned and 
smiled at Brandon in a reassuring 
manner. Then he pressed down a 
number of levers on the side of the 
cabinet and spoke into a mouth- 
piece on the door. 

HpHROUGH the crystal door Bran- 
don saw Granger smile. Bran- 
don knew what it was all about. The 
Prince was talking rapidly. Final- 
ly he stopped and Brandon could 
see Granger's lips moving. He 
watched the Prince's face. First it 
expressed only bewilderment. Then 
gradually,, terror once more. At last 
he made odd little gestures with his 
hand, as though he had given up try- 
ing to understand. He opened the 
door and Granger came out. 

“He's unable to grasp what has 
happened," Granger said. “He says 
he fell asleep yesterday on his 
throne and today he awakens to find 
two strange people near him. He 
demands an explanation. I told him 
that he's been asleep for thousands 
of years and it seems to frighten 
him half to death. See how far you 
can get with the man." 

It was obvious that the cabinet 
was a language translator, of a far 
advanced design over the simple 
types used on earth. Brandon re- 
signed himself to the machine. The 
door closed and he started through 
the crystal door to the Prince. The 
Prince’s voice, transcribed and 
changed by the machine, produced 
pleasing, gentle English speech. 

“Your colleague — tells — a strange 
— story. Tell me — the truth. Tell— 


63 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


me why you — have come to Launn. 
Where are my people ?” 

Brandon tried to speak simply. He 
knew that the lesson the Prince must 
learn would be a hard one. 

"Listen to me/’ he said. ‘'This is 
the year of 2024. Many years ago a 
legend reached Martian cities that a 
strange place existed at the far rim 
of the Plain of Parna. The city, it 
was called Launn, was supposed to 
be full of dead people.” 

He was watching the Prince close- 
ly. The man’s lips were repeating 
his words. His eyes were on Bran- 
don. 

‘No man had the courage to enter 
the dead city,” Brandon went on. 
"At last my colleague and I came 
with drugs to release you and your 
people. You are quite safe now, and 
it is only a matter of time before the 
remainder of your city will be freed 
from death.” 

The Prince shook his head impa- 
tiently. 

"I am sorry,” he said. “I do not 
believe. Launn is very much alive. 
If what you say is true, I would 
have slept for ten thousand years.” 
He frowned. 

"That would be impossible. I shall 
be forced to call the guards. To im- 
prison you until further investiga- 
tion.” 

Brandon couldn’t blame him for 
feeling as he did. Memories could 
not live while a man lay dead. To- 
day would be but one day removed 
from the hour that the Prince fell 
asleep. Evidently he remembered 
nothing of what had happened. 

"I ask for one favor,” Brandon 
said. “First, you cannot call the 
guards for they are as stiff as you 
were a half hour ago. I don’t ask you 
to believe. Let me out of the box. I 
will convince you.” 


^NGER showed on the Prince’s 
face. He opened the door quick- 
ly and Brandon came out. Brandon 
led him from the room and down to 
the hidden door through which he 
and Granger had gone to find the 
lovely girl in the room below the 
palace. He went down the steps 
swiftly, the Prince behind him. 

He pushed the door open and went 
into the presence of the dead Prin- 
cess. The Prince pushed him rough- 
ly aside and with an anguished sob, 
fell on his knees before the Prin- 
cess. His hands sought hers, and 
came away slowly. He shook her 
gently by the shoulders, but the 
body remained still and cold. 

Sobs shook his body. He still did 
not understand that a few minutes 
before, he had resembled the Prin- 
cess. That she could be revived as he 
had been. 

Brandon stepped forward and put 
his hand on the Prince’s shoulder. 
He motioned toward the girl, then 
put his arm around her waist and 
started to lift her. The Prince un- 
derstood. He pushed Brandon aside 
and lifted the girl in his arms. He 
turned and carried her up the stairs 
and out into the square. When she 
had been deposited on the stretcher, 
he straightened, turned to Brandon 
and motioned in a manner to indi- 
cate that Brandon had charge. He 
stepped away a few paces and 
watched as the hypos were pre- 
pared. Never had Brandon seen a 
man with such a combination of fear 
and pride etched on his face. 

THAT is the story of 
what has happened on Mars 
and on Earth since, according to 
your figures, the city of Launn 
ceased to live.” 

Brandon stopped talking for a mo- 
ment, studying the faces of the 


64 


amazing stories 


Prince and Princess through the 
crystal glass of the language trans- 
lator cabinet. He was warm and un- 
comfortable in the small box. It had 
been removed from the laboratory 
and placed before the thrones in the 
throne room. Both the Prince^ and 
the lovely girl of the hidden cnam- 
ber sat before him, listening atten- 
tively. 

“You say that there is no explana- 
tion for what happened to us?” 

It was the Prince who spoke, fi- 
nally convinced that the story of 
Launn was true. 

Brandon shook his head. 

“None,” he said, “unless you can 

offer one.” 

The Prince shook his head. 

“None,” he repeated. He turned 
to look at the girl. Her hair and 
eyes were dark and alive. She was, 
Brandon thought, one of the most 
charming little imps he had ever 

seen. 


“My sister and I,” the Prince said, 
“are grateful to you both. We will 
try to reward you as you deserve. 
Now, let me tell you what I know. 

It would be ten centuries ago that 
my father, King Fanta, established 
his Kingdom here. He chose an iso- 
lated spot where his people could 
dwell without outside interference.. 
Fanta brought the finest builders, 
scientists and men of all crafts here 
from throughout the solor system. 
We were not troubled by war or by 
petty bargaining. All our time was 
spent developing a perfect civiliza- 
tion.” 

Pie sighed. 

“Fanta died, and the City of 
Launn passed into our care. My sis- 
ter’s name is Fawn, named for the 
graceful creatures who once roamed 

in our parks.” 

Fawn blushed prettily. 

“I am Barbie,” the Prince said. I 


carried on as my father wished. 
Never did Launn contact the out- 
side. Never did our people grow 
restless. If we prospered and went 
far beyond other cities in scientific 
research, it was because we contact- 
ed no one, fought with no one and 
spent our days in bettering every- 
thing that we owned.” 

“And a wonderful job you did, 
Brandon said with enthusiasm. Yet, 
during all this conversation, you’ve 
never once mentioned anything to 
give us a clue to what happened on 
that day that the people of Launn 
ceased to breathe/ 

P RINCE BARBIC shook his head. 
Suddenly he looked tired. 

“I have no explanation,” he admit- 
ted. “It is like yesterday, and I re- 
member it well. I sat on the throne, 
musing over the day’s accomplish- 
ments. Fawn was in her private 
room below, a place where she often 
rested. I thought of her, and of my 
people and what Launn had done to 
make them happy. I must have fall- 
en asleep. When I awakened again, 

I was lying in the square, looking 
up at men I had never seen before.” 
Fawn nodded. 

“I also experienced the same sen- 
sation.” Her voice was low. “I 
awakened, to look at,” she blushed 
and pointed a small finger at Bran- 
don, “you.” 

Brandon said : 

“There is a plan to be carried out. 
You will help us revive members of 
your city. As they are awakened, 
you will explain what happened and 
enlist their help. My friend, John 
Granger has charted the location of 

every citizen of Launn. 

“With his help, as people awaken, 
they will bring others. The square 
will serve as clinic. There are over 
six million souls to be awakened. It 
will be a long job.” 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


65 


Prince Barbie arose. Tears shone in 
his eyes. He came down from the 

throne. 

“Although you are unable to under- 
stand me when you are not m the 
machine, I express my deepest grat- 
itude.” 

His voice broke. 

Brandon understood. So did 
Granger. Brandon gripped Barbie’s 
hand tightly. They went arm in arm 
out into the square. 

E ve GRANGER sincerely thought 
she hated Phillip Jordon duiing 
those days immediately after Brandon 
saved her from the paralysis drug. 
Then, remembering him as he had 
been on earth, she began to wonder 
if she should help Jordon escape from 
the cell he had been thrown intd by 
Prince Barbie. Eve Granger knew 
Jordon well. Had known him long 
before she met her present husband. 
Knew that Jordon would be grateful, 

and perhaps forgiving. 

As Launn changed slowly into a 
pulsing, living city, she had time to 
be alone and to plot Jordons release. 
She found it impossible to look at hei 
husband with anything but pity. He 
was old, it seemed to her. She, in her 
youth, demanded more from life than 

he could give. 

Today, one of the rare moments 
when Launn was a dark, gloomy place 
and a mountain storm hung over the 
city, she had ample time to carry out 
her half-formed plan. Granger ana 
Brandon were at the palace with 
Prince Barbie. Eve’s lip curled as she 
sat in the lounge of the car, the foi- 
gotten book on her lap. Brandon liked 
the palace very well, lately. Fawn, 
Barbie’s sister, was a very attractive 

girl. 

Eve felt a tinge of jealousy creep 
through her. Brandon had been inter- 
ested in her at first. She was quite 
sure of that. She had spoiled it with 


her own sharp tongue. 

Jordon was her only chance now. 

Her only opportunity to escape this 
new, strange world and return to the 

luxuries of earth. 

She stood up abruptly, let the boox 
fall to the floor, and went into her 
sleeping room. John Granger had 
wanted to accept Barbie’s invitation 
and take quarters at the palace. She 
had refused to go. She liked the car. 
Here, she was the mistress of the 
house. She couldn’t see Fawn every 
day and not remember that her own 
loveliness was beginning to desert 
her. It made her feel old. 

She dressed quickly in whipcoards 
and boots. It wouldn’t be difficult to 
see Phillip Jordon. She had been into 
the prison often with Barbie and 
John. The guards would admit her. 
She slipped a small fire pistol under 
her leather tunic and left the car. At 
the palace she avoided the main en- 
trance and sought the metal door 
near the rear of the establishment. 
This was the direct entrance to the 
cells beneath the palace. 

A guard smiled happily because she 
had chosen to honor him with a visit. 
He escorted her to Jordon’s cell, the 
only one occupied at the present time. 
She waited while he opened the 

door. , 

‘‘Thank you very much,” she smiled 

at him sweetly. 

The guard couldn’t understand a 
word. He smiled profusely and 

backed away. 

Jordon was at the door in a second. 
“Welcome,” Jordon said. ”1 hardly 

expected you here.” 

He took the pistol she offered him. 
“I— I had to help,” she said. A slow 
fear welled up within her. 

Jordon said, “They’ll punish you 
for this if they catch you. 

he PIVOTED to face him. Her 
cheeks flushed. 



66 


AMAZING STORIES 


“Phillip, I forgive you for what you 
did the other day. I had to come. I 
love you. Don’t you understand?” 

She threw herself into his arms, 
sobbing. 

“Don’t leave me here. Take me with 
you. That’s why I came. I had to 
escape. I can’t stand. . .” 

He pushed her away from him cool- 
ly- 

“You know damned well I can’t 
leave here now.” 

“Can’t — leave . . ?” 

He swore softly. 

“You’ll never understand me,” he 
saiu. It isn t that I don’t enjoy your 
company. I simply don’t live a life 
that you can endure. I must protect 
my interests here. The Sulphana sup- 
ply has been cut off since I’ve been 
in that damned cell. Burtell caravans 
wait outside the city for my signal to 
enier and load up. Since Launn be- 
came a living city again, they’ve been 
waiting patiently for my orders. At 
least, I hope they are still waiting. 

The foundation and ^Weston are 
going crazy waiting for information 
from me. We’ve got to start the flow 
of Sulphana again.” 

“But — how?” 

Jordon looked grim. 

“By destroying every last inhabi- 
tant in this city, if it proves neces- 
sary.” 

Eve Granger looked nervously 
down the long deserted hall. 

“We’d better get out of here now 
while we can, she said. “Later — we 
can plan.” 

Jordon looked amazed. 

“You’re still willing to go with me 
willing to live like an animal and 
fight side by side with those loath- 
some things in the caverns, just for 
my companionship?” 

She nodded resolutely. 

“Wherever you go,” she said. 

He grasped her by the shoulders 
and drew her to him roughly. 


Her eyes were shining. 

“Then I can go?” 

“To hell — if I end up there,” he 
said. “Come on.” 

jDRANDON left the dining hall 
quietly, thinking that he had 
evaded the attention of Barbie and 
John Granger who had been discuss- 
ing the culture of early Launn when 
he left. Granger and Barbie were so 
happy at striking upon a simple, uni- 
versal language that they talked like 
small boys, without thought of stop- 
ping. 

Brandon wasn’t aware of the sly 
smiles they gave each other as he 
wandered purposefully out to the 
terrace. 

He saw the slim, silver clad figure 
of Fawn at the far end of the terrace 
and hurried toward her. She pretended 
not to notice him as he approached, 
and turned with startled, pleased eyes 
as he spoke to her. 

Oh! I did not hear you approach.” 
Wonderful, he thought, how this 
girl and her brother have learned En- 
glish in so short a time. Granger had 
oone the job with the language trans- 
lator. It was a matter of close atten- 
tion and lip reading. Now she spoke 
as well as Eve Granger, but with a 
little lilt in her voice that was her 
own. 

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” he 
Said. I planned to start work on the 
defense system tomorrow. I wondered 
if you’d care to accompany me to the 
laboratories.” 

She smiled happily. Each was new 
at this game of hearts. Each hesitant 
and unsure. 

“I’d be very happy.” 

She made the simple word ‘happy* 
sound like a description of Heaven. 
Good, he said. “I’ll call for you 

in the morning. I hope it won’t bore 
you.” 

She leaned back against the broad 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


67 


wall of the terrace and smiled up at 
him. 

“I'm afraid I do not know how to 
say it, Mister Brandon/’ she said hes- 
itantly, “but I am never bored when 
I am with you. Perhaps I talk too 
much. My brother says I talk all the 
time. When I have something inside 
of me, I say it.” 

Brandon’s face turned slightly 
pink. 

“That’s the way it should be,” he 
said. He felt like a high school boy 
on his first date. Eve Granger had 
been the first woman who ever upset 
his sense of balance. Fawn did a much 
more thorough job of it. The faint 
odor of her perfume in the darkness — 
the silver gown, trailing about her. 
“I’m — I’m that way myself.” 

She stepped close to him. 

“Then why don’t you say it?” 

He gulped and remained silent. He 
imagined a fish might feel this way 
when drawn out into the air. 

“What I meant was that it was only 
a short time ago, I awakened and 
looked up at you,” Fawn was saying. 
He didn’t hear all of her words. He 
was watching her face. The full lips 
forming into words— the sparkling, 
mischievous eyes. “I told Barbie then 
that I wanted you for my husband. 
Barbie threatened to spank me for 
saying it, but, I still think I should 
say what is inside me. Don’t you, 
Mister Brandon?” 

DRANDON felt as though rockets 
^ were going off inside his head. 
This was the first time he had gath- 
ered nerve enough to see the girl 
alone, and he had hoped to tell her 
that she was lovely. Now he was lis- 
tening to a proposal of marriage. 

<< j > > 

He stopped abruptly and took her 
in his arms. 

Minutes later, she drew away from 
him gently and tossed her hair back 


from her face. Her cheeks were 
flushed and happy. 

“I think,” she said in a teasing 
voice, “that Mister PeeWee Hudson 
would call that the direct approach, 
don’t you — Les?” 

Brandon didn’t answer. He took her 
in his arms again. 

J OHN GRANGER came into the 
laboratory quickly. He hurried 
down the long line of white frocked 
workers and stopped at Brandon's 
table. 

“Les, we’ve got hell to pay. Eve is 
gone. Jordon has escaped. 

Brandon came to his feet, the high 
stool hitting the floor behind him. 
“Escaped? But how?” 

Granger’s eyes were hard. His jaw 
was set. 

“/ said Eve was gone/* 

Brandon thought he understood. 
He couldn’t say so. 

I don’t see the connection,” he 
said. 

Granger’s eyes didn’t falter from 
his. 

“I’m no fool, Les. I may be old, but 
not an old fool. Eve has been after 
Jordon for years. I knew that. I sus- 
pect she was with Jordon during 
those fiist days in Launn. For some 
reason, he got rid of her. Now she’s 
helped him escape and has gone with 
him.” 

Brandon didn’t try to argue. In his 
heart he knew that Granger was right. 
“Where do you think they’ll go?” 
Granger, now that the worst was 
told, looked very tired. He slumped 
on a chair. 

“I’m sure of just one thing,” he 
admitted. “Jordon won’t leave Launn. 
His interests are tied up here. He’ll 
try to destroy us in some way. He’ll 
get back his control over Sulphana, 
or die trying.” 

“Barbie has the insect men under 


68 


AMAZING STORIES 


control,” Brandon said. “Launn has 
been deserted for a long time. There 
may be more colonies of the crea- 
tures. If Jordon were to release 
them. . 

“They'd cause a lot of trouble,” 
Granger said. ‘‘Have we anything to 
defend ourselves? Can we light 
them?” 

Brandon shook his head. 

‘Tm not sure,” he said. “Barbie 
said Launn never fought a war dur- 
ing its earlier existence. I expected 
an attack by the insect people sooner 
or later. I’ve been working here on a 
gas that could be used to keep the 
insect people quiet. It dopes them so 
that they go on living and producing, 
but do not have the will to fight.” 

“It’s not the insect people that I’m 
worried about,” Granger admitted, 
“so much as I am Jordon himself. He 
can’t enlist help from earth because 
it would give away the location of 
his Sulpliana source and bring the 
v/hole deal to light. He’ll try to fight 
alone, and Jordon fighting alone 
isn’t a pretty picture to conjure up.” 

“Poison?” Brandon asked. 

“Poison and sabotage of the lowest 
type. Jordon fought during the 
Sparta uprising on Venus. He has a 
reputation for using any means to 
reach his end. Killed off an entire 
city once by placing Gangus-fungus 
in the water supply.” 

Brandon started for the door. 

“I’ve got to see Barbie,” he said. 
“We’ll have to take every possible 
precaution.” 

Granger was close behind him. 

“Then what?” 

Brandon stopped and turned short- 

ly- 

“Then I’m going to find Jordon.” 

ee i ORDON’S hiding somewhere un- 
j der the palace,” Brandon said. 


“I’m sure of that. I imagine he ha3 
tunnels that lead to the edge of the 
city. Probably the place is honey- 
combed with the things.” 

He stood patiently while Granger 
helped adjust the mask over his face 
and clamp down the light helmet. 

“The suit was used by divers who 
cleaned the water supply tanks,” 
Prince Barbie offered. “It’s construct- 
ed of light but very tough metalura. 
It should protect you from the in- 
sect people.” 

The ro,om was very quiet for a mo- 
ment. Granger busied himself with 
the last adjustment on the knee- 
joints. Barbie wandered to the win- 
dow and stared down at the peaceful 
city. 

“I feel like a knight,” Brandon said 
sourly. “Going off to fight for my 
lady. Only I’m going down into the 
tunnels to look for a rat.” 

Granger straightened. 

“See here, Brandon, I. . 

“It’s no use, John,” Brandon* said, 
suddenly sober. “This is a one man 
job. There is only one suit, and I 
don’t need help with Jordon. Once I 
find him. . .” 

“It seems very odd,” Barbie said 
from the window, “that so peaceful 
a city could be threatened. There is 
the man, Jordon, and another terri- 
ble threat we have not discussed late- 
ly.” 

• Granger stared at Brandon. 

“The Power,” he said. “We’ve got 
to do something about that.” 

Brandon smiled a little grimly be- 
hind the glassine mask. 

“I think I have a clue to the 
Power,” he said. “There’s no imme- 
diate danger if I’m correct. We’ll 
find Jordon, then.” 

Granger was puzzled. 

“You’ve found out what the Power 
is?” 

Brandon nodded. 

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It all 



CITY OF THE DEAD 


60 


has to do with a very terrible tragedy 
that occured on earth centuries ago. 
This is but a repeat performance. I 
think that it can be avoided if we 
can escape it in time/’ 

They would have questioned him 
further if Fawn had not entered the 
room. She saw Brandon in the odd 
looking suit and rushed to him. Her 
eyes were filled with anxiety. 

“A courier told me,” she said, “you 
go after Jordon?” 

Brandon nodded. 

‘Til be back soon,” he said. 

Barbie, trying to comfort his sister, 
came to their side. 

“He says he is a knight going to 
fight for his lady. Is his lady proud 
of him?” 

Fawn’s shoulders straightened and 
a smile came out like the sun on her 
pale face. 

“Very— very— proud,” she said and 
on tip-toe, kissed the glassine mask 
that covered Brandon’s face. 

“And now,” Granger said quietly, “I 
think it best that I go alone with 
Brandon to the cellars beneath, the 
palace. I will leave him in the tunnel. 
We must be very quiet.” 

r T 1 HE CAVERN room above the in- 
sect colony was deserted. How- 
ever, to Brandon, it betrayed the fact 
that Jordon had come this way. Eve 
had been here, for he could smell her 
faint perfume in the room. He 
searched the room carefully, and 
found an empty chest. Almost empty, 
for at the bottom was a small mask 
with a tight rubber band that was 
evidently meant to hold it on the 
face. The mask was metal, a type of 
nose guard used by earth-men who 
fought in the Spear wars. He guessed 
that the chest had contained complete 
suits of armor of the Spear War type, 
and that the mask had been forgotten 
or purposely left behind. To back up 
his theory, the only way out of the 


room, other than back in the direc- 
tion he had come, was through the 
trap-door in the floor. 

He lifted and found the iron ladder. 
It was a matter of seconds before he 
stood on the floor of the cavern be- 
low, surrounded by the repulsive in- 
sect people. 

He steeled himself against the sight 
of them, and felt their teeth grate 
against the metal of his suit and slide 
off. 

At first they came close, sniffing 
and biting at him. Then apparently 
satisfied that they could do no harm, 
they went about their business. 

He stared about the strange “hive”. 
It was probably two hundred feet 
long cut out of solid rock. At the far 
end was a dark hole in the wall. A 
tunnel leading from the hive. 

He made his way toward it, stum- 
bling over the creatures and falling 
among them. In the tunnel he moved 
forward, feeling his way. He must 
have walked a mile through the wind- 
ing chamber when he saw light ahead 
once more. 

This time it was the light of the 
desert, and he came out on a small 
ridge some distance outside of Launn. 

The cave was hidden by rough cac- 
tus growths, and below in a little val- 
ley were dozens of small, scrubby 
looking Burtells, their shaggy ears 
sticking straight into the air, their 
ugly* six toed feet planted patiently 
in the hot sand. 

Near the far end of the valley was 
a large tent and men were going into 
it. 

Jordon’s temporary office, he 
thought, and sat down in the sand at 
the mouth of the cave where he could 
watch the tent and whoever -came 
from i tu 

A half hour passed and a girl came 
out, slipped a desert shield over her 
head and came toward him. 

Eve Granger, he thought grimly. 


AMAZING STORIES 


70 

She was intent on reaching the 
coolness of the cave, and he watched 
her climb the little ridge and come 
toward him. 

f TE SLIPPED out of sight behind 
**■ ^ an outcropping of rock and wait- 
ed. The girl came into the cave. She 
was no more than six feet from him. 
He waited until she sat down, her 
back to the rock, her eyes on the 
scene below. Then swiftly he slipped 
up behind her, held her with one arm 
firmly around her neck and gagged 
her with her scarf. 

She struggled vainly, kicking, 
scratching and trying to cry out. 
Grimly he held on until she subsided 
and lay quietly in his arms. 

“Listen to me,” Brandon said. “This 
time it isn’t a game. I’m playing for 
keeps. I’ll kill you if you cause me 
any trouble/’ 

She nodded, and he could see fear 
in her eyes. 

. “You’re going back,” he said. “John 
can do what he wants to with you, 
but you’re going back. Do you under- 
stand?” 

She stared at the ground, sulking, 
refusing to acknowledge him. 

“I don’t want you,” he said. “I want 
Jordon. Is he coming back this way?” 

No answer. Brandon was growing 
impatient. 

“You’d better talk, Eve. You’ve 
done enough already. If any harm 
comes to Launn because of you, 
you’ll be punished like any other 
criminal. Why don’t you be sensible. 
Jordon is hard. He doesn’t want you. 
He wants Launn for himself.” 

He was bluffing, but he saw that 
his words made an impression on her. 

“Aren’t you smart enough to know 
that your usefulness to Jordon is 
over?” 

She looked up at him suddenly, 
appealingly, as though she wanted to 
speak. 


“Do you know Jordon’s plan?” he 
asked. 

She nodded, and he could see that 
he had guessed right about Jordon. 
He was tired of Eve, and she knew it. 

“If you’ll promise to be quiet, I’ll 
take the gag from your mouth.” 

She nodded again, and he released 
it. She was breathless. 

“Les — I’ve been a fool — an ungrate- 
ful one at that.” 

THITHER she was a fine little actor, 
or a change had taken place in 
Eve Gardner's attitude during the last 
few moments. 

“Go on,” Brandon said coolly. “I’ll 
hear it all, then I’ll decide if I can 
trust you.” 

She smiled a little wanly. 

“You’re just about breaking my arm 
with your manly grip,” she said. “If 
I promise not to run, will you loosen 
your hold a little?” 

He did so, wondering if she was 
stalling for time. 

Eve’s eyes grew suddenly fiery. 

“Jordon is a fool,” she said. “A 
first class one. He tried to get rid of 
me once before, but I was crazy 
enough about him to follow him again. 
This time I wanted to escape but I 
didn’t have anywhere to go. Les, if I 
tell you something that is very im- 
portant — something that has to do 
with the safety of Launn, will you 
help me escape from this — this sink- 
hole of Hell?” 

Brandon stared at her. 

“If you’re lying again...!” 

“But I’m not,” she said earnestly. 
“This time I’m on the level. I’ve been 
square with you from the first, Les. 
I had to be. I’m a damned poor ex- 
cuse for a woman, Les. I’m better off 
away from John and he’s lucky to 
be rid of me.” 

She was talking quietly, as though 
discussing a business deal. 

“John is a great man. He doesn’t 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


71 


know it, and that's what makes him 
great. I used to work for Charles 
Weston and that’s how I got mixed 
up in this Sulphana mess. John Gran- 
ger was dangerous and Weston paid 
me to watch him. The marriage was 
the unexpected part, but in Weston’s 
mind, marriage is unimportant. The 
big thing was that I must watch 
John’s every move and report to Wes- 
ton, so that he would be ready to step 
in and save Sulphana’s interests re- 
gardless of what happened.” 

“And Jordon,” Brandon asked cold- 
ly. “Where does he fit into the 
mess?” 

Her face was warm and flushed 
now. She had started the story. She 
had to finish. 

“Phil Jordon and I ran around to- 
gether for years,” she admitted. “He’s 
always treated me like a worm, and 
I’ve gone back for more.” She 
shrugged, and a shudder swept 
through her. “Until no w, he’s always 
called me and I’ve gone to him. This 
time I’m all washed up.” 

Brandon wondered how much of 
what she said was the truth. He was 
inclined to believe most of it. 

“What’s Jordon up to now that 
makes him repulsive to you?” 

She put her hand on his arm and 
stared up into his face. 

“Don’t get me wrong, Les,” she 
said. “Jordon isn’t replusive to me. 
He’s an ugly brute, but I’ve chased 
him since I was a kid. I’ll never stop 
chasing him. It was like a habit. It 
didn’t work out, and I’m not going 
back again.” 

Brandon knew she meant it. 

H E STARED down at the tent. 

The sun was still high and 
shimmering heat danced about the 
dark cloth of Jordon’s shelter. The 
Burtells were seeking shade. No other 
movement was visible on the desert. 
He broke the spell of silence. 


“You’re telling me the truth,” he 
said. “I’m quite sure of that. It’s fun- 
ny — about women like you, I mean. 
You make a complete damn fool of 
yourself, then expect by telling the 
truth, regardless of how ugly it is, to 
clean the slate at the first try. I don’t 
know how I can help you. I’d never 
face John Granger again if I helped 
you escape. Why don’t you go to 
him. ...” 

“Les,” the girl’s voice was sharp, 
yet pleading. “I can’t do that. John 
has been square with me. He’s always 
trusted me. I couldn’t tell him. . .” 

He knew she couldn’t. That she 
wouldn’t have the courage to hurt 
him. 

“What is Jordon going to do?” he 
asked. 

“He’s going to wait,” she said sim- 
ply. 

He looked at her sharply. 

“Wait — for what?” 

“For the Power to return and de- 
stroy Launn once more. He said it is 
coming soon, and that he will have a 
clear field once more. That there will 
be no one to trouble him.” 

He grasped her hands, gripping 
them tightly. His eyes were suddenly 
stern. 

“Eve — you know what the Power 
is? Jordon told you?” 

She was no longer afraid. She had 
one ace card left and she meant to 
play it carefully. 

“I know.” 

“Then you’ve got to tell me at once. 
We’ve got to be prepared.” 

She pulled away from him gently 
and he let her go. They faced each 
other, each pleading silently for his 
case. Each wondering how far he 
must go to win the point. 

“I’ve — I’ve got to get away safely, 
without seeing John,” she said. 

“Eve — an entire city faces death, * 
and you’re making me bargain for 
their lives.” 


72 


AMAZING STORIES 




She was desperate. 

“I’ve got to get away. I know I’m 
a coward. I’ve been a coward, but 
this is the last time I’ll have a 
chance to drive a bargain. My free- 
dom against a city. Les — will you 
promise to help?” 

Inside Brandon there seethed a 
combination of loyalty to John Gran- 
ger and the knowledge that Launn 
had to be saved, regardless of the 
price. If Granger found out... 

From deep in the tunnel, a sudden 
rumbling noise echoed and re-echoed. 
A rush of wind whipped up and the 
sai.d blew Eve Granger’s dress tight- 
ly about her. She fell, crying out, and 
Brandon drew her back into the pro- . 
tection of the rocks. 

r T' T HE WIND was howling about 
them now with great intensity, 
filling the air with fine, blowing 
sand. 

He couldn’t shout above the sound. 
He stared out of the tunnel and down 
at the valley below, with wonder- 
filled eyes. A great transformation 
had suddenly taken place in the des- 
ert camp. 

The first gust of wind seemed to 
have come from inside the tunnel, yet 
the desert also was in the midst of a 
violent storm. He held the girl tight- 
ly against him, for the wind was so 
strong that they would have been 
separated and lost in the storm. Jor- 
don’s huge tent bellied out and 
twisted free from the desert floor. It 
swept upward into the air and dis- 
appeared across the Plain of Parna. 

He couldn’t see the men below, but 
he could make out the forms of the 
Burtells, lying with their heads awa y 
from the wind, already half buried in 
the sand. 

He put his lips to Eve’s ear and 
shouted. 

“This is no sand storm. It’s — it’s 
something far worse. A wind like this 


isn’t normal.” 

She nodded, her face close to his 
chest, choking for her breath. The 
desert was growing dark. In two min- 
utes, he thought, it will be as dark 
as night. He stared upward through 
the haze of flying sand. A huge black 
cloud was flying over head, straight 
out across the plain. Yet, was it a 
cloud? It seemed to drift and break 
apart, and drift together again. It 
swept close to the ground and parti- 
cles of it, mixed with the sand, fell 
about them. He saw Eve Granger rub 
bits of fine black dust from her jack- 
et and press them between her fin- 
gers. When she stared up at him 
again, her face was white. She pulled 
him from the entrance of the cave 
and back into the tunnel. It was quiet- 
er here and the wind in the tunnel 
had subsided. 

“Les — the black dust. We’ve got to 
get back to Launn. Jordon told me 
about the dust. It means that the 
Power is about to strike again.” 

PJAWN, sister to Barbie and Prin- 
cess of Launn, was worried. Fawn 
had grown to love Brandon intensely, 
with the love of a child who grew 
suddenly to womanhood and dedi- 
cated her entire life and love to one 
man. 

Long hours ago she had watched 
him, clad in the armor of the diver, 
disappear into the insect world be- 
low the city. Since then the others 
hadn’t mentioned his name before 
her — had tried to make her think that 
they ignored him and knew that he 
was in no danger. 

Fawn dressed swiftly, covering her 
fine, long hair with one of her 
brother’s silk turbans. Her small feet 
were carefully shod in boots and her 
gown had been discarded in favor of 
a hardy hunting costume of shirt and 
breeches. She was ready to search 
for Brandon. 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


73 


Fawn knew little of underground 
Launn. She knew that the insect men 
meant no harm, and like giant bees, 
they had worked for Barbie as long 
as he fed them and kept them locked 
safely in their hives under the city. 
Launn owed a great debt to the in- 
sect men. From them, Launn took the 
powder that meant health. Launn had 
never known ill health until the Pow- 
er came to steal everything from 
them. 

Fawn found her way under the 
palace and past the room where she 
had sought rest and found sleep that 
lasted for thousands of years. She felt 
her way to the end of the tunnel and 
at last stumbled into the room where 
Phillip Jordon had secretly stayed for 
so many months, during his visits to 
Launn. 

At the trap door, her courage failed 
her, and she could go no further. To 
venture into the hive meant death un- 
less she was protected. She 'knew that 
the insect men had no intelligence, 
that they attacked with one animal 
thought in mind — to destroy what 
they could and ignore what they 
could not harm. 

Fawn sat in that room, waiting for, 
she knew not what. Hoping that 
Brandon would return. 

A storm came from the mountains. 
She knew that, for the wind found 
the tunnel and whipped through the 
room, breaking the door from its 
hinges and whipping down through 
the trapdoor into the hive. She sought 
safety from it behind the empty chest 
in the corner. She was startled and 
badly frightened, for no such wind 

had ever blown in Launn to her 

<• 

knowledge. 

. - 4 

OHE STAYED there until the wind 
was quiet once more. Below,, the 
insect men screamed in protest 
against the wind that swept through 
their hive. She went to the trap door 


and knelt there, staring down with 
fascinated eyes at the turbulent scene 
below. 

Then she stiffened. Voices came 
from the hive. She heard Brandon 
speak, but he was far away, and she 
did not understand his words. Then 
another voice came to her faintly. Her 
heart sank. It was a woman’s voice. 

She wanted to leave the trapdoor, 
but she couldn’t tear herself away. 
Then she saw Brandon coming 
through the hive in the armor suit, 
the headpiece tipped back. In his 
arms, where he could hold her out of 
reach from the insect men, was Eve 
Granger, the lovely earth girl. 

A great sickness swept over Fawn 
and she felt faint. With fascinated 
eyes she watched them come across 
the hive. Brandon kicked and fought 
his way through the milling insect 
men. They reached the bottom of the 
ladder below Fawn. 

The girl in Brandon’s arms sudden- 
ly kissed him on the lips. 

Tears dimmed Fawn’s eyes and she 
sprang away from the trapdoor. She 
moved swiftly back along the tunnel, 
groped her way up the stairs and into 
the palace. 

She hurried through the throne 
room and down the great hall to the 
square. Barbie was rushing into the 
palace. Blank, certain fear was writ- 
ten into Barbie’s strong face. 

“Fawn...?” 

She didn’t hesitate, but started to 
run down the steps past him. He 
turned and tried to catch her as she 
went by. 

“Fawn — don’t go out. It isn’t safe.” 

She hardly heard him, but saw his 
bubble car sitting near the curb where 
he had just left it. She knew that he 
was pursuing her — calling for her to 
come back. She jumped into the car 
hurriedly and drew back the rocket 
release. As the car sprang away, she 
was conscious of a clear, hateful pic- 


74 


AMAZING STORIES 


turc framed too clearly on the steps 
of the palace. 

Barbie was there, staring after with 
wonder. Beside him stood Brandon, 
with Eve Granger still in his arms. 
Barbie was shouting at Fawn, but she 
could not hear. 

The bubble car shot out into the 
deserted boulevard and she drove 
swiftly toward the outer city, in the 
direction of the Mount of Spawn. 

She knew that she would drive 
forever, perhaps straight to death. 
Death would be welcome now, to heal 
forever the deep wound in her heart. 

T WAS Fawn,” Barbie said 
helplessly. “Fawn took my 
car and drove away. I tried to stop 
her.” 

He stared at Brandon as Brandon 
put Eve down. 

“You see the storm? It is like noth- 
ing we have ever had. The wind has 
gone, but look. . .” 

Barbie pointed at the sky. 

Brandon nodded. 

“I know,” he said simply. “Eve was 
with Jordon. I promised to help her. 
Jordon knows the secret of the Pow- 
er. He told Eve. I think we can save 
the city.” 

He stared after the disappearing 
car. 

“We’ve got to act fast,” he said, 
and turned to Eve. “Help Barbie. 
He’ll protect you until I return. I 
can’t promise that you won’t see 
John. You’ve got to help us, regard- 
less.” 

She had control over herself again 
now. Her face was very pale, but reso- 
lute. 

“I know,” she said. “I was a fool 
to do what I did — down there. I might 
have known that you’re too decent. . .” 

Brandon blushed. 

“Forget it,” he said. ‘I’ve got to 
find Fawn before it’s too late. Help 
Barbie” 


He left them standing there. He ran 
down the steps two at a time, his eyes 
already focused on an approaching 
bubble car. The car moved to the 
curb and John Granger stepped out. 
He saw Brandon coming. 

“Les,” he shouted. “What in the 
devil...?” 

Brandon ran past him and jumped 
into the car. 

“See Barbie,” he said quickly. 
“There is still time. Eve will ex- 
plain.” 

He saw John Granger’s face turn 
dead white and watched the older 
man turn toward the palace. 

“Eve?” Granger said questioningly. 
“Where...?” 

Brandon started the car. He waited 
impatiently as the bubble car gained 
momentum and the rocket bursts were 
steady behind it. He had seen Fawn 
make the turn toward the foothills. 

He looked up quickly at the cloud 
that hung over the city. It was 
spreading and coming lower. Brandon 
tried to nurse more speed from the 
bubble car. He watched the broad, 
smooth pavement ahead of him, try- 
ing to find the tiny speck of Fawn’s 
car in the distance. 

J OHN Granger ran up the steps to 
where Eve and Barbie stood. 
“Eve,” he cried, and went toward 
her. 

She didn’t falter — didn’t back awayl 
“John,” she said. “I haven’t time to 
explain now. There are many things 
to be done. We must save the city. 
I’ve learned the secret of the Power.” 

He stared at her for a moment be- 
fore he realized the importance of 
her words. 

“You’re safe,” he said quietly. “I’m 
very thankful.” 

He should have seen the tight lit- 
tle lines on her forehead, the misery 
in her eyes. 

“The cloud is growing thicker,” 



CITY OF THE DEAD 


75 


Barbie said. His voice was oddly 
calm. 

People in the streets were milling 
about below them. Launn was a 
frightened city. A city of children 
who knew not where to turn for safe- 
ty. They felt the nearness of the Pow- 
er yet knew not how to fight it. 
Launn could not fight, for it could 
not see the monster that was about 
to devour it. 

“You remember Pelee,” Eve Gran- 
ger said coolly. 

Her husband’s face suddenly mir- 
rored horror. 

“Mount Pelee of Martinique ?” ' 

She nodded. 

“You read about it one night. You 
read aloud, about the people of St. 
Pierre and I said that it was impossi- 
ble. Surely you remember that?” 

He nodded, beginning to under- 
stand. 

“Launn is another St. Pierre,” she 
said. “The lava flows across the 
mountain, away from the city. The 
Power comes this way. I believe what 
you read about ancient Pelee now, 
John. Jordon told me that the Mount 
of Spawn is the Power. When the vol- 
canic cloud comes, the Power fol- 
lows.” 

John Granger had heard enough. 
He pivoted toward Barbie. Prince 
Barbie was badly bewildered. He had 
listened carefully and learned noth- 
ing. 

“Your people must go underground 
at once,” Granger said. “If you go 
deep and close the entrances care- 
fully, sealing any contact with the 
upper world, you may save Launn.” 

Barbie did not question him. 

“There are the water tunnels, and 
the hives of the insect men,” he said. 
“Strong doors protect the entrances. 
The water tunnels are long and very 
deep.” 

Granger nodded. 

“There’s no time to waste. Read a 


proclamation at once over the telo- 
screen. It may be an hour or it may 
be minutes. The Power is ready to 
strike.” 

TT WAS almost dark among the 
A parks of the outer city. Brandon 
had to slow down, searching the in- 
tersecting roads carefully, desperate- 
ly. He wondered where the girl would 
go — why she had tried to escape the 
city. 

Surely she had seen the cloud and 
realized that tragedy would strike? 
Perspiration stood out on Brandon’s 
forehead. His hands, gripping the 
steering rudder of the bubble car, 
were wet and cold. 

He crossed a bridge over the last 
lagoon and sped straight toward the 
Mount of Spawn. 

“Odd,” he thought, “driving 
straight toward death.” 

He had little chance to escape the 
Power now, for he was driving 
straight into the Power’s lair. But 
Fawn was up there somewhere ahead, 
and regardless of her reason for leav- 
ing, he must bring her back or perish 
in the attempt. 

The air was growing hot and the 
cloud, laying low, covered the park 
with fine, black pumice. It started to 
drift across the road, obscuring his 
vision. He switched on the powerful 
lights. 

Ahead of him, he saw a car over- 
turned in the ditch, wedged against 
a tall Sparta tree. 

He breaked the car quickly and left 
it, running swiftly toward the over- 
turned vehicle. He recognized the 
crown insignia on the door panel. He 
reached it, wrenching the door open. 
Fawn had driven too fast and tried to 
turn sharply. She was slumped on the 
seat, her limp body twisted half 
around toward the door. A dark 
bruise was visible on her forehead and 
her lips were parted slightly. He 



7G 


AMAZING STORIES 


lifted the unconscious girl to his 
shoulders and ran as f^st as he could 
in the blackness of the pumice cloud. 
Reaching his own car he placed her 
gently in the seat. 

Brandon’s face was grim as he sped 
back toward Launn. The city was hid- 
den in the shadow of the cloud. 

He reached the 3 first park, and be- 
hind him, a strange light lifted into 
the sky and reflected on the road. It 
was accompanied by a roaring explo- 
sion. 

Mount of Spawn was erupting. The 
Power was on its wav. 

The cloud swept away swiftly and 
the sky and reflected on the road. It 
that burned beneath Spawn. He could 
not see the Power, for he knew that 
it came slowly, like a gas, and no man 
could see it. Launn had died once be- 
fore, and there had not even been a 
pumice cloud to warn them. The last 
time the Power had come alone, be- 
fore Launn suspected. He was thank- 
ful that this time it had given warn- 
ing. 

There was one chance. The first 
bridge loomed up before him. Pray- 
ing that the water in the lagoon was 
deep, Brandon swerved the bubble 
car and shot straight off the high 
embankment into the lagoon. The car 
hit the water with a sickening jolt 
and darkness closed in once more 
about him. Brandon took a deep 
breath and reached for the girl. 

TN THE palace, John Granger stood 
by the huge door, staring up at the 
fire that belched from Mount of 
Spawn. He had insisted on taking his 
chance, so that he might study the 
Power in action. Launn must learn 
to fight back, and the city could do so 
only by knowing what it was fight- 
ing. 

Barbie was below the city with his 
people. Most of them had been given 
ample time to retreat. The huge doors 


were closed and bolted. Granger him- 
self had dressed in a heavy fire suit 
which Launn’s men used to fight the 
flames that occasionally licked at its 
buildings. The suit was heavy and 
the helmet thick. Granger felt safe. 

He stood by the open doors, watch- 
ing Spawn. He wondered if Brandon 
would reach Fawn in time. He could 
not help them. It had been Brandon’s 
choice and a man must fight his own 
battle. 

The cloud was thickest now, and 
Granger turned slowly. With a gasp 
of surprise, he ripped the mask away 
from his face. 

Phillip Jordon stood near him, his 
face grim with a mocking smile. He 
held a fire pistol in his right hand. 

“Hello, Granger. So we meet again, 
and at a very opportune moment.” 

Jordon was dressed in a thin metal 
suit and he held the glassine helmet 
in his left hand. 

Granger said nothing. 

“Well — talk,” Jordon said abruptly. 
“Talk now, because you’ll be saying 
your last words on this planet or any 
other.” 

Granger walked toward him a few 
steps and stopped when -Jordon flour- 
ished the pistol. 

“You’re a damned coward, Jordon,” 
he said coldly. “You hide behind a 
woman’s skirts and fight behind my 
back. Do you think I’m afraid of a 
man like you, even when you carry 
a pistol?” 

Jordon’s face turned a trifle pale. 

“Don’t try to bluff me, Granger,” 
he warned. “I’ll shoot you before you 
come another two steps.” 

Granger took another step. 

“You thought you could use Eve 
to betray us. You hated her as much 
as you do me, but you knew she was 
weak, Jordon. You and the whole yel- 
low crew behind you.” 

“I’m warning you, Granger. One 
more step.” 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


J ORDON’S voice was strong now. 

He was desperate. He had to use 
the pistol or give way. His fury was 
growing. 

“I knew what you were doing,” 
Granger said. ‘Tm older than Eve. 
I didn’t blame her for leaving me — 
but to choose you in my place. She’s 
weaker than I thought.” 

His arm was upraised now, the 
heavy helmet poised to crash down 
on Jordon’s head. Suddenly he took 
the last step. The pistol in Jordon’s 
hand exploded but before it did so, 
a bundle of fury released itself from 
the wall curtains and sprang at Jor- 
don’s neck. 

Jordon went down and Granger’s 
helmet hit him a glancing blow on the 
face. The fire charge grazed the 
heavy suit and exploded harmlessly 
against the wall. Granger went to his 
knees. Jordon was lying full length 
on the floor and across his body lay 
Eve Granger, her cheek bleeding. The 
helmet had hit her also, knocking her 
out. 

Granger drew her away from Jor- 
don gently. 

“Eve?” 

His voice was pathetic. 

From outside the palace, a gigantic 
bomb seemed to explode. It rocked 
the entire city. Granger rushed to the 
doors. He stared with horror toward 
Spawn. The sky above Spawn was 
bright with liquid fire. The black 
cloud was ripping itself aside and rac- 
ing toward the city. Behind it, was 
nothing but empty, sinister sky. 

Granger rushed back to the two 
who lay on the floor. He went to 
work like a mad man, ripping the suit 
of armor from Jordon’s body. When 
it was free, he tried desperately to 
work Eve’s limp body into it before it 
was too late. At last it was done, 
he placed the helmet over her head. 
Then and only then did he once more 


77 

the floor, her head on his lap, his arms 
about her, sheltering her as he would 
a child. 

The windows of the room flew 
open. A strange, hot wind swept 
through the building. Even through 
the protecting suit. Granger could 
feel it. It came and left swiftly, and 
almost before it reached him, he was 
once more cool and gasping for 
breath. 

Was it safe now? 

TTE LIFTED the helmet from his 
■“* **■ head and took a quick breath. 
The air was good, but the floor under 
him, when he touched it with his fin- 
ger, was very hot. The air smelled hot 
and sickishly sweet, but he guessed 
that the Power had passed. He tried 
one more experiment. He walked 
slowly to Jordon’s body and leaned 
over it, touching the man’s face with 
his fingertips. He recoiled, backing 
away from the corpse, his senses 
stunned, though he knew what he 
must expect even before he ap- 
proached the body. 

Jordon was stiff and hard. His face, 
where Granger’s fingertips had 
touched, was like warm rock. 

Hurriedly Granger drew the helmet 
from Eve’s face. He hardly had the 
nerve to touch her. When at last his 
finger touched her face, her cheek 
was warm and alive. She opened her 
eyes and stared up at him. 

She was trying to speak and he 
bent close to her lips, listening, tears 
glistening his eyes. 

“I — was — a — fool,” he heard her 
voice, low, filled with emotion. “I’m 
no good — Jordon and I...” 

He placed a finger gently over her 
lips. 

“I know all about you,” he said 
quietly. “It’s all over. Jordon’s dead.” 

She didn’t answer, but he knew that 
each of them would have another 


don his own helmet. He sat there on t ,xfaance, and that neither Phillip Jor- 


78 


AMAZING STORIES 


don, nor the entire world could ever 
tear them apart again. 

DRANDON planned swiftly, frariti- 
cally as the car sank down into 
the lagoon. The water must be deep, 
he thought. It had to be deep, or the 
Power would reach them. 

For a few seconds the bubble car 
remained dry inside. He saw the cool, 
dark water fighting to get in. He 
must wait. Must save every precious 
second and pray that the Power 
would pass. He slipped over as far 
as he could toward the right side of 
the seat. He lifted Fawn to his lap 
and held her there. He found her 
handkerchief and tied it tightly over 
her lips. The girl didn’t move. Her 
eyes were closed. 

He was watching the surface of the 
lagoon. 

Suddenly the water above seemed 
to froth and turn white. It boiled 
downward and Brandon held his 
breath. The heat would be terrific. 
Could it reach the bubble car? 

Water was trickling into the rear 
compartment. He heard it and hoped 
that the glassine would hold against 
the pressure. 

The bubbles were receding now, 
back toward the surface. 

Suddenly the glassine window 
broke and tons of water rushed in. 
With his foot, he kicked the door 
open. It took all his strength to do it. 
He held Fawn tightly with his right 
arm. He pushed himself away from the 
car and felt the shock of icy water 
hit his body. 

With a powerful kick, he sent them 
upward toward the surface. He 
thought he would choke before they 
reached air. 

Quickly he changed his hold, 
caught Fawn under the arms and 
swam toward the shore. 

It was a strange, peaceful world 
that he had come back to. The cloud 


i 

had gone. There was no fire spewing 
from Spawn. Launn, far away, was 
quiet. Too quiet, he thought, as he 
dragged Fawn’s limp body to the 
shore. 

He wondered if Eve Grangers 
warning had come in time. 

TN LAUNN, there was a great cele- 
A bration. The people, all but a frac- 
tion of them saved from the terrible 
Power, were thankful for their for- 
tunately planned escape. Although 
they knew little of the Power even 
now, they would soon learn, for their 
friends from earth would soon offer 
an explanation. 

At the Palace of Launn, Barbie had 
prepared for the greatest feast Launn 
had ever given. 

The dining room was filled with 
workers, and the great table groaned 
in protest against the load of fruits 
and meats that covered its fine cloth. 
The party was small. Tonight was a 
special celebration, for it marked the 
day when Princess Fawn would gain 
a husband and her many admirers 
would lose their last chance to win 
her heart. 

Barbie sat alone at the head of the 
table, as his father had sat many cen- 
turies ago. 

Fawn, looking a little pale, wore 
her bandage well and it hid the only 
wound that the Power had left be- 
hind. At her side, Brandon beamed 
like a small boy who had just caught 
the largest fish. John Granger was as 
devoted as ever to Eve, and Eve 
Granger was, undoubtedly, a changed 
woman. Never again would she find 
a counterpart for Phillip Jordon. All 
the Phillip Jordons of the planetary 
system were forgotten by her, and 
her eyes were bright and a little misty 
as she watched her husband rise and 
face the huge telo-screen that had 
been placed before him on the table. 

He was a fine man and it had taken 


CITY OF THE DEAD 


75 


her years to realize it. She had been 
unwise, and a fool. Now that he had 
forgiven her — had in fact, saved her 
life in return for his own, she would 
never leave him again. 

Two more pair of eyes watched 
Granger as he started to speak. Pee- 
Wee Hudson had done a good job of 
herding Launn’s citizens into the tun- 
nels, and Jenny had not been idle. It 
had been her request that she be 
placed in charge of preparing the 
royal banquet, and the odors that rose 
from many covered dishes added the 
crowning touch to her triumph. 

Granger touched the button that 
lighted the screen and sent his mes- 
sage to the waiting people of Launn. 

“The Power can never again catch 
Launn unprepared,” he said simply. 
“I am not a speech-maker. I am a 
scientist. I cannot take credit for sav- 
ing Launn.” He turned to Eve. “I 
would like to present my wife, Eve, 
who went into the enemy camp as a 
spy and brought back knowledge of 
the Power. It was her faithful work 
that gave us time to prepare Launn 
and to save its people.” 

Eve Granger found her handker- 
chief and tried to dry her tears be- 
fore the others saw. No one seemed 
to notice. John Granger went on. 

“Many centuries ago, in the old 
world of which we know so little, a 
Mountain called Pelee erupted and 
threw tons of lava down upon the 
town of St. Pierre. A strange thing 
took place in that town. Thirty thou- 
sand people were caught going about 
their daily work. When rescue ships 
came, these people were still there, 
unharmed so far as wounds were con- 
cerned. Yet they were all dead, 
stopped in their tracks where the 
heat from Pelee had passed.” 

H ~ E PAUSED, wiping his face with 
his handkerchief. The room was 
very quiet. 


“The Mount of Spawn is a volca- 
no, but as none of us have gone there, 
we did not know this. Spawn throws 
the lava away from the city, into the 
valleys that we have not explored. 
However, the wave of super-heated 
air came in this direction. That was 
no doubt caused by drafts that we 
know nothing about. All this must be 
studied now, and understood, for the 
sake of future generations. 

“Oddly, the heat wave does not 
burn. It passes too suddenly to burn. 
Instead, it fills the people's lungs and 
makes them stop breathing. It kills 
them quickly, and passes on with so 
much speed that the victims are 
stopped in their tracks, without any 
visible marks on their bodies. Death 
comes so suddenly that they cannot 
move from where they stand. 

“That is our explanation of the 
Power, and we have no reason to fear 
it again, for we know what to do.” 

He sat down. 

Barbie rose and went to the screui. 
His voice was young, strong and con- 
fident as he addressed his people. 

“I can add little to what John 
Granger has told you,” he admitted. 
“However, we owe all to the earth 
party and I am happy that they have 
reunited here in my father's home to- 
night. We will be ready for the Pow- 
er when it comes again, and we have 
the help of one who has promised to 
stay in Launn and make his home 
here.” 

He looked across the table at Les 
Brandon. 

“My sister, little minx that she is, 
made a grave error. An error that 
would have cost her life had not 
Brandon saved her from the Power. 
She has seen her mistake, and I be- 
lieve that Launn will lose a Prin- 
cess and some day acquire a Queen. 
Perhaps Launn will be blessed with a 
number of members of the Royal fam- 
ily, to keep the house of Barbie 


80 


AMAZING STORIES 


alive/' 

Fawn blushed and tried to look 
very small at Brandon’s side. 

“Earth has sent a message which I 
will read for the first time,” Barbie 
said, and drew a sheet of script from 
his pocket. 

The party around the table looked 
surprised. Here was something that 
none of them knew about. 

“The message,” Barbie said, “is 
from the Earth Council of Science. I 
read : 

“A full report of the activities of 
the Western Research Foundation 
and the work of Phillip Jordon, has 
reached this office. When it had been 
confirmed, the Weston Research 
Foundation will be relieved of its po- 
sition and Charles Weston and his 
aides will be imprisoned. This mes- 
sage will serve as an invitation by this 
council to John Granger, and will ask 
Granger to accept the post as leader 
of a group to be called the Granger 
Research Foundation and to repre- 
sent earth in all scientific matters as 
this council’s representative. An im- 
mediate response is requested.” 

VJO ONE spoke. John Granger took 

^ his wife’s hand in his and held it 
Very tightly. 

Barbie folded the paper and passed 
it to Granger. 

“Sulphana is a valuable drug,” he 
said. “Launn realized this while Earth 
was but a lonely outpost of the 
planetary system. Now, earth wants 
a supply of Sulphana to pass through 
the offices of Brandon and Granger. 
Launn will be well payed for the 
product and our friends will receive 
their commissions. That is all I have 


to say. 

“I could thank my friends, but they 
do not wish to be thanked. I believe 
that each one has received his just 
reward.” 

He sat down, and the screen went 
blank. 

“Now — if Fawn can concentrate on 
food,” he said with a smile, “we will 
eat.” 

Fawn blushed and disentangled her 
hand from Les Brandon’s. Jenny 
Hudson beamed upon them in a 
motherly fashion. 

“The flour ain’t so good here,” she 
said. “But I guc^s those biscuits will 
be good enough. The ovens have to 
be remodeled. They’re too hot, 
too. . 

PeeWee Hudson frowned. 

“Aw, Jenny, them biscuits are the 
best, and you know it. Stop making 
excuses. No one pays any atten- 
tion. . .” 

“You keep your big blather-mouth 
shut, PeeWee Hudson,” Jenny said 
testily. “I’m not a good cook and you 
know it.” 

Prince Barbie, grinning happily, 
had already sampled his first one. 

“I pronounce the food excellent,” 
he said with a show of authority, “and 
as I’m the Prince of the city, my word 
is law. Please stop arguing at once.” 

For a minute, Jenny Hudson 
seemed about to sputter in indigna- 
tion at the upstart who questioned 
her right to speak. Then she saw the 
delighted smile they were giving her 
and subsided with a pleased smile. 

“Everything’s gonna be all right,” 
PeeWee said softly. “Yes sir, every- 
thing’s gonna be all right ” 

THE END 


COMING NEXT MONTH! 

THE GALAXY RAIDERS 

'William P. McGivern gives you a REAL Science-Fiction Yarn! 


By William Karney 



TN THE WEST there is a plant called 
the Klamath weed which grows so fast 
that it chokes out the grass on the ranges, 
and is injurious to the health of the cat- 
tle. Till now the ranchers have been fight- 
ing a losing battle with the weed, using an 
expensive chemical that is difficult to ap- 
ply. Now they think they have found a 
better way. That way is the use of the 
Chrysolina, a beetle native to Australia, 


apparently just loves the Klamath 
it won't eat anything else. The 
Sff 41 ®? their eggs around the base of 
the plant and when they hatch, they eat 
he leaves. The older beetles come out of 

l n - th - e 8 P T l n ? and ,ive on the 
mrnHnW 1 . ln / uI1 . bloom. The beetles 
multiply rapidly and scientists believe that 

will Z° . V™ the Klamath weed 

will be a thing of the past. 




By H. B. Stanton 



T HE BOTTOM of the sea holds some 
irresistible fascination for men. It is 

the one portion of the world which man 
has not explored to any great extent. It 
wasn t so many years ago since Dr. Beebe 
went down three thousand feet into the 
ocean in his bathysphere. Most of us re- 
member the reports he made of weird 
monsters existing at those depths. It 
seems he had on that trip an assistant, 
Dr. Otis Barton who became fired with 
the zeal to go even deeper. The Bentho- 
scope was the result. 

. The Benthoscope, from the Greek, mean- 
ing “sea bottom observer” , was, or is, a 
steel sphere five feet in diameter and 
about an inch and a half thick. It is sus- 
pended from a thin steel cable to which 
are attached phone and power wires. In 
this pitifully weak little device, Barton 
chose to go deeper than any human being 
before him — four thousand five hundred 
feet! 

Because the benthsocope is a sphere it 
is capable of withstanding extreme pres- 
sures and Barton’s trip proved that it was 
adequately designed. There were no leaks 
through the sphere and its quartz window 
easily withstood the pressure. In many re- 
spects, because of his isolation from the 
surface, Barton was in the position of a 
deep space traveler. He even ' drew that 
comparison. His oxygen was delivered to 
nun from steel bottles within the sphere. 
Any tubes projecting down into that 
depth would have been crushed. Trays 
of sodium hydroxide removed the carbon 
dioxide exhaled by him. In other words he 
was effectively a lone unit with a self 
contained oxygen - supply and scavenging 
system as would be found in a potential 
space ship. 

Barton, who seems less of an icthyolo- 


gist or biologist than a physical scientist, 
next plans to repeat the tremendous dive 
with a trained observer who can analyze 
to a certain extent and perhaps photograph 
the weird sea-bottom creatures. His maior 
concern was in the design of a suitable 
vehicle for such depths. It seems that man 
can go to any depth he desires, since a 
steel sphere capable of resisting any sea 
pressure can be built. The limitation here 
is the strength of the steel cable. As more 
cable is lowered the tensile forces acting 
to separate become greater. What a terri- 
fic thrill! To be dangling at the end of 
a slender wire of steel, with the sphere 
twirling and bobbing in a fashion to make 
one sea sick! The power cable failed on 
Barton s dive so he was not able to see 
clearly into the intended illuminated depths 
into a searchlight cone. Never the less, a 
good deal was learned. Barton intends to 
repeat the experience, but so far as he 
knows it is wiser to observe sea life and 
depths considerably less, because life and 
living things are more concentrated. At 
the extreme depths of the ocean it is 
highly improbable that any kind of sea 
lite will be found unless perhaps some 
minute bacteria or other life undisturbed 
oy pressure, can live. It gives one the 
shudders to think of a man hanging in 
the ocean by such a thread. What 
thoughts must inevitably course through 
his mind under such circumstances? What 
fears must tear at him? Yet, 'Barton, who 
maintained telephone communications with 
the surface apparently remained quite 
calm and scientific withal. And that is a 
difficult feat indeed. It is one thing to 
read about steel nerves; it is another to 
have them when thousands of feet of water 
separate you from living beings— death 
seems near! 




of IMMORTALITY 


By Craig Browning 


a vampire really exists, is Ibms t«> 
something scientifically explainable. i«- 
was . . . and Or. Schwick found the answer. 


D r. SCHWICK sat in his favorite 
barrel chair pouring apple cider 
from a gallon glass jug into a large 
drinking glass. His overdeveloped 
paunch, short fat legs, and stubby 
fingers were belied by his high, in- 
tellectual forehead and keen grey 

eyes. 

His wife sat over in one corner o 
the room sewing on a dress she was 
making. She ignored her husband and 
his present favorite disciple* 

The disciple was a young man 
about' twenty-five years old, five 
feet seven, with blond hair parted 
in the middle and neatly laid on his 

scalp 

His name was Orville Chadwick, 
and he had been developing a talent 
for automatic writing on the type- 
writer. He was rather thin, due to the 
diet of potato water and carrot juice 
he had been living on under Dr. 

Schwick’s tutelage. 

The two were in marked contrast 

to each other ; the one thin, with long 
sensitive fingers ; the other stout and 
bloated looking; with fingers that 
at first glance seemed to all have been 
amputated at the first joint. It was 
only by looking at the eyes of the two 
that one could tell that the gross man 
was the master and the sensitive, 
younger man the lesser intellect. 

Dr. Schwick screwed the cap back 
on the jug and set it on the thick 
green rug beside his chair. He took 
several deep swallows of the spark- 
ling apple cider and smacked his lips 


loudly. Then he continued what he 
had been saying. 

“All my life, Orville, I ve been hop- 
ing someone with your talents would 
come along. The big trouble with 
having a talent like yours is that it 
doesn’t carry with it the judgment 
to put it to the best usage. You think 
that it is something wonderful to just 
be able to sit down at a typewriter 
and throw yourself into a trance and 
wake up to find your fingers have 
written out some intellectual non- 
sense that a conceited spirit thinks 
to be a world shaking revelation 
from the astral. 

“Pah! You don’t have to contact 
the astral to get intellectual non- 
sense. Millions of words of that sort 
of thing are being written every day 
by perfectly natural agencies. And 
just because a man has been dead for 
a century or so doesn’t make him a 
know-it-all. If it did all our greatest 
scientific achievements would be 
written and published by mediums 
rather than by materialistic scien- 
tists.” 

“But what other use CAN I put it 
to, doctor?” Orville asked. When I 
go into a trance I don’t know what 
entity is going to take over. I never 
know unless he writes out his name. 
I don’t have any control over the 

matter.” 

“You can have control to a certain 
extent,” Dr. Schwick replied. “Go 
places. I knew a writer once who 
made quite a success of his profes- 


82 





the furry bodies of those two half-transparent rats lay the secret o£ an evil immortality • • • 




AMAZING STORIES 




sion by just going various places and 
opening his mind to the astral entities 
around him. Very remarkable things 
resulted. He wrote one story while 
in a small midwestern town that il- 
lustrates very remarkably what I am 
driving at. He had never been in this 
town before, knew none of the peo- 
ple, and even less about the topogra- 
phy of the place. 

“He had only been there a few 
hours when inspiration struck him. He 
sat down at his typewriter and in 
three days turned out forty thou- 
sand words. It was a complete story, 
and written without a flaw. 

“So far as he knew it was pure 
fiction. He ‘invented* the names of 
the characters and even the names of 
the streets and geographical centers 
such as mountains and hills and 
gulches and creeks. The same with 
the plot. 

“Like all writers he let it be known 
that he was a famous author and had 
just written a story. He sent it to a 
magazine publisher who happened to 
need that type of story right at that 
very moment, and consequently it ap- 
peared on the stands in less than a 
month. Naturally the natives of the 
town all bought it and read it. 

“The story hit the townsmen right 
between the eyes ! It proved with 
chapter and verse, so to speak, that 
the drunkard who had been sent to 
prison for committing a murder that 
had taken place near that town was 
innocent, and pointed the finger of 
guilt directly at a very upright citi- 
zen of that town, even giving his 
correct name!” 

“So he was an automatic writer just 
like I am!” Orville exclaimed. 

“No,” Dr. Schwick said gently. “He 
was a successful author. He wouldn’t 
have been if he dabbled in great revel- 
ations from seedy ghost writers. He 
put his talent to practical use, — enter- 
taining the public.” 


“Oh,” Orville said, somewhat 
abashed. 

AT THAT moment the front door- 
** bell rang. Dr. Schwick placed 
his hands on the arms of his chair 
and lifted his mighty frame to an 
upright position, unconsciously pro- 
testing against this invasion of his 
comfort. 

Mrs. Schwick glanced up from her 
sewing and followed her husband 
with her eyes as he went to the front 
door. 

His booming voice told her who 
the visitor was. 

“Well!” Dr. Schwick exclaimed 
heartily. “Dr. Bowden ! Come in, come 
in. What brings you over on a night 
like this? I thought, what with spring 
weather giving everybody colds and 
the flu, that if I wanted to see you 
again before the summer doldrums set 
in I would have to look you up my- 
self.” 

Dr. Bowden looked very much like 
he might have been Dr. Schwick’s 
brother. Except for his huge paunch 
Dr. Schwick could have worn Dr. 

i 

Bowden’s clothes and looked well in 
them. 

The visitor shuffled off his top- 
coat and took a chair without invita- 
tion. He looked at the apple cider jug 
on the rug, and at the glass in Dr. 
Schwick’s hand, and calmly asked if 
another glass could be obtained. 

There was a twinkle of excitement 
in Dr. Schwick’s eyes. He sensed that 
something was on his old friend’s 
mind, and it must be up his alley or 
this visit would not have been made. 
Nor was he wrong. Dr. Bowden came 
straight to the point after quenching 
his thirst with one glass of cider and 
settling back contentedly with a sec- 
ond held in his hand. 

9 

“I have a case that has me puzzled,” 
he began. “It’s a case more than a 
patient. There are two patients and 


VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


85 


one corpse, to be exact. The dead 
person met with accidental death 
while alone. One of the patients has 
a broken leg. The other is suffering 

from acute— anemia.” 

“Anemia!” Dr. Schwiclt said in a 
hushed, meaningful tone. “Tell me 

about it.” n 

“That’s what I came here to do, 

Dr. Bowden said irritably. “I was 
first called onto the case by a real 
estate friend of mine who has sent me 
patients before. It seems he had just 
sold a house to some people. They 
had moved in and he decided to drop 
around and see if everything was 
satisfactory. The people were man 
and wife with no children. Their 
names were Crane,— Fred and Edith 
Crane. 

“He knocked at the back door. At 
first he heard no sign of life inside. 
After the second knock he heard a 
woman screaming for help. He tried 
the door. It was unlocked, so he went 
in and followed the direction of the 

screams to the basement. 

“Edith Crane was lying at the 
bottom of the steps with a compound 
leg fracture. He had quite a time con- 
vincing her she should remain quiet 
until he could get a doctor. He called 

me and I came right away. 

“Her story was that she had been 

on the stairs when a mouse jumped 
out from under her feet. Forgetting 
her precarious position she tried to 
jump out of the way. She broke her 
leg in the fall down the remainder of 
the steps to the concrete basement 

floor.” 


o#T-xO YOU HAVE any reason to 
■L' suspect she might be lying 
about what happened?” Dr. Schwick 
asked. 

“No, dammit,” Dr. Bowden said. I 
think she was telling the truth even 
yet after what took place later. When 
I ^ot there I immediately called the 


ambulance and took her to the hos- 
pital. By that time her husband had 
come home in response to the real 
estate man’s call to his place of busi- 
ness. He went along. 

“Fred Crane, the husband, says that 
after he got home from the hospital 
he sent a wire to his wife’s sister to 
come at once. She got there the next 
day and went with Mr. Crane to the 
hospital to see Edith. Then she and 
Fred went back to the house. Edith 
couldn’t be taken home until the next 
day. Her leg was going to be all right, 
but I felt she v/as suffering from 
shock and should remain in the hos- 
pital an extra day. 

“About eleven o’clock that evening 
I got a frantic call from Fred Crane. 
He babbled something into the phone 
about Ada being dead. I thought he 
had gone out of this head and rushed 
over to give him a sedative, kicking 
my pants for not realizing that the 
husband might have been suffering 
from shock the same as the wife. 

“I was mistaken. The sister actual- 
ly was dead. The evidence showed she 
had been getting into the tub to take 
a bath with the water still running. 
She had slipped and fallen against the 
tub faucets, giving herself a . nasty 
blow that rendered her unconscious. 

“Unconscious, she fell into the tub, 
and when the water rose as high as 
the overflow it covered her complete- 
ly and she drowned. Fred shut off 
the water faucets, but had sense 
enough not to touch the body. 

“In all cases of accidental death I 
have to call the police. I did so. They 
came and made their routine exam- 
ination. Then Dr. Beasely, the coro- 
ner, and I drained the water out of 
the tub and examined the body more 
closely. Death was undoubtedly from 
the causes indicated by the evidence ; 
but both of us noticed an unusual 

thing about the corpse. 

“We confirmed it later, so there is 


86 


AMAZING STORIES 


no least doubt. Although there was 
the fractured skull and the blood on 
the tub faucets to tell where she had 
hit her head, THERE WAS NOT 
ENOUGH BLOOD IN HER BODY 
TO HAVE KEPT A KITTEN 
ALIVE. She was well past the stage 
where death results from cronic 
anemia ! Although she had undoubted- 
ly died from drowning she could not 
possibly have been alive BEFORE 
she fell into the tub. Contradictory? 
I know it; but that is what the evi- 
dence says. 

CRANE insisted his 
sister-in-law had seemed in 
perfect health. She had a light com- 
plexion and blushed often and easily, 
so any signs of anemia would have 
been quite obvious to him during the 
course of the evening before she met 
her death. 

There was no reasonable explana- 
tion. The slight pinkish tinge to the 
bath water could have been caused 
by no more than a drop or two of 
blood. To be sure, the water had 
flowed into the tub and out through 
the overflow for almost an hour be- 
fore he investigated and shut it off. 
During that time a great deal of 
blood could have disappeared. The 
coioner and the police seized upon 
the reasonable explanation and 
ignored the fact that it meant that 
practically a gallon of blood had 
flown from a slight scalp wound 
while the poor girl had remained un- 
der water. The wound did not come 
near an artery, and even if it had it 
wouid have taken a good deal more 
than five minutes for it to flow out, 
and long before then she would have 
died from drowning and the blood 
stopped flowing. 

“Nevertheless, at my whispered 
suggestion they took Fred down and 
locked him up for the night. I had 
strong forbodings about that house 


and wanted him out of it for the 
night. Also he was in a frame . of 
mind where he might do anything, 
with two tragedies bothering him. 

“That was last night. Early this 
morning before beginning my calls 
on patients I dropped in at the police 
station to see how hv. had passed the 
night. 

“He seemed asleep when the jailor 
let me into his cell, and I would have 
turned around and left without dis- 
turbing him except for the fact that 
I noticed he seemed much thinner 
than he had seven hours previously, 

and his skin seemed almost blood- 
less. 

“Without waking him I felt his 
pulse. His heart was beating wildly 
like a pump that has lost its prime. 
He was feverish. I tried to rouse him, 
but was unable to do so. 

I called the jailor and had him 
send for the police ambulance and 
rush him to the emergency hospital. 
There I gave him a quart of plasma 
before doing anything else. Since 
then I have given him two blood 
transfusions, and I think I have him 
out of danger now. 

In the case of Ada, the sister-in- 
lav/, it is not too impossible that she 
MIGHT have lost practically all her 
blood through that scalp wound. If 
that were an isolated instance I 
would be forced to dismiss the whole 
thing on the basis. BUT in Fred's 
case there was nearly the same loss of 
blood, and there was not the slightest 
sigh of puncture on his skin anyplace. 
Not even a prick large enough for ad- 
mission of a hypodermic needle!" 

“And you think there may be some 
force of evil about that house that 
has caused this?” Dr. Schwick asked 
softly. 

“What do YOU think, doctor 1" Dr. 
Bowden asked. “I got the keys to the 
house from the desk sergeant at the 
station when I picked up Fred's 


87 


VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


things to take to the hospital. Or- 
dinarily I wouldn’t have bothered, but 
I wanted those keys. If you like, I 
want you to go to that house with me 
and see what we can find out.” 

J^R. SCHWICK rose from his chair 
and went to the closet, getting 
do\wi his coat and hat. His lips were 
compressed grimly, and his grey eyes 
held a glint of anger. 

With his coat on he paused. 

“Tell me doctor,” he said. “When 
you have been in that house have you 
felt anything sinister or anything 
about the house that felt different?” 

“No-o,” Dr. Bowden said thought- 
fully. *‘I can’t say that I have.” 

“You’ll be in no danger then,” Dr. 
Schwick said. “But I had better go 
prepared.” 

He went over to a glass case on a 
table by the wall and extracted a 
wooden cross all of six inches long 
with a loop of dark string attached 
to it so it could be worn about the 
neck, concealed under the clothing. 

“This is a cross I picked up in a 
curio shop in Berlin many years ago,” 
he explained. “It was supposed to 
have been the property of a scholarly 
priest who was famous in his time for 

banishing— VAMPIRES.” 

“Vampires?” Dr. Bowden echoed 
incredulously. “Nonsense. This is the 
twentieth century, not the dark ages.” 

You re the one that talks non- 
sense,” Dr. Schwick said with a dry 
chuckle. “When a master of the Black 
Art like Hitler can make it necessary 
for the whole world to struggle for 
its preservation, calling the forces of 
evil from their sewers to do his bid- 
ding, we can have no talk of the twen- 
tieth century being any different than 

the last, — or the thirteenth centurv 
either.” 

He opened the door and stood aside 
for Dr. Bowden to precede him. 

Dr. Bowden was a slow and careful 


driver. The two men rode in silence, 
the one with his eyes on the road and 
his foot always near the brake pedal, 

the other with his eyes closed in 
thought. 

After several blocks Dr. Schwick 
spoke without opening his eyes. 

I ve been thinking over what you 
have told me, doctor. There’s no 
question in my mind but what it is 
vampirism. If such is the case we 
must find the body to which the 
vampire spirit is tied in death and 
DESTROY that body. I am a psychic, 
as you know. Undoubtedly I will be 
able to sense that vampire spirit. 

“But sensing it and getting it to 
disclose the body that holds it earth- 
bound are two different things. All 
the histories of vampirism are uni- 
versal in their insistance that the 
vampiie is aware of its vulnerability 
through destruction of the body it 
inhabited in life, and clings to in 
death ; and that a vampire will never 
willingly disclose the location of that 
body.” 

“Then how are you going to find 
out?” Dr. Bowden asked skeptically. 

“I think it would be best for me to 
play on his vanity,” Dr. Schwick said 
slowly. “If I can get him to talk a 
lot he may unwittingly give away that 
secret. I assume that the body must 
be either in the house itself, or bur- 
ied somewhere very near the house. 
Of course, to simply look for the 
body is out of the question except as 
a last resort. We would have to dig 
at least six feet under every square 
foot of the basement and the yard 
around the house, then find later that 
it is hidden six feet under just across 
the property line in a neighbor’s yard. 

“What I intend to do specifically, 
if I can, is talk to this spirit and 
P^ant the idea of writing his story. 
Then I can use my friend back at the 
house, Orville Chadwick. I can paint 
an alluring picture of how nice it 


amazing stories 


88 

would be for this vampire if he were 
famous and people by the dozens 
came to the house where he is. He 
could practice vampirism o 

heart’s content then. 

“In order to do that I am going to 
have to hold nothing but simple, 
friendly thoughts toward him in my 
mind, and that will be hard to do 
after the story you told me of his 

doings.” n 

“Thank God I’m not psychic I Dr. 

Bowden said fervently. 

“I thank God for that myself,” Dr 

Schwick said. “Otherwise you might 

have fallen victim also, and the vana- 

pire would still be unsuspected. 

There’s no telling how many victims 

he has had already. 


gleaming eyes appeared around the 
corner of the house to the right. They 
stopped and remained motionless an 

unblinking. . 

As Dr. Bowden succeeded in un- 

locking the door and swinging it 

open a faint mewing sound came ou 

of the darkness from the direction 

of the shining eyes. 

From a great distance the mourn- 
ful howl of some dog added to t e 
air of sinister horror that hung over 
the house like a visible cloak. And 
just before Dr. Schwick stepped past 
the threshhold into the house t e 
two shining eyes in the darkness 
winked out with sudden abruptness. 

Dr. Schwick could hear his com- 
panion’s hands rubbing against the 


r^R. BOWDEN brought the' car to 

\j a s top at the curb before a dark 

unlighted house that stood fifty feet 

back from the road. 

It was a two story house witn a high 

peaked roof that bespoke of a large 
attic. Trees partly hid it from view, 
and the street light a block away di 
little to drive back the darkness of 
the moonless night. 

The nearest house was a half a 
block .„.y. A vacant lot was on 
either side of the place. And as the 
two men turned their backs on the 
parked car and walked toward the 
house they pulled their coats up more 
closely around their necks, although 
the night was warm and humid. 

Their footfalls echoed eerily on 
the concrete walk and seemed to re- 
bound from the house ahead with 

thundering echo. 

The trees on either side of the 
walk were motionless, and not a 
breath of air disturbed the silence of 

the night. 

While Dr. Bowden fumbled with 
the key to the door Dr. Schwick 
looked around him. Suddenly two 


switch. 

“Don’t turn the light on yet, he 
said “Here. I have a small fountain 
pen ’light. It will enable us to see well 

enough.” , 

He fumbled in his vest pocket and 

brought out a small flashlight. It lit 

up, casting an eerie glow over the 

room. , 

Long shadows lurked behind chairs, 
peeking out at the two muffled fig- 
ures. Dr. Schwick stood rigid in an 
attitude of listening, his hand rest- 
ing on Dr. Bowden’s shoulder. 

• Then his eyes widened. In the door- 
way across the room from him the 
darkness was swirling and gradually 
something solid was taking shape. 

He knew from the laxness of Dr. 
Bowden’s shoulder that he was un- 
able to see it. But it was there. 

Slowly the blackness of the space 
in the doorway to another part of the 
house was spiralling and settling into 
the form of a person. 

As it settled more and more a part 
of the darkness seemed to separate, 
and a face appeared. It was the face of 

a woman ! 


VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


89 


T TER SKIN was smooth and flaw- 
^ less, relaxed as in sleep and in- 
credibly white. Her eyes were pools 
of night, and her slender figure was 
hidden under a long cloak that fell 
in straight lines to the floor. 

Dr. Schwick could feel her thoughts 
probing his, and he reached toward 
her with his mind, his thoughts 
friendly, — those of a father toward a 
daughter. 

She smiled and moved slowly to- 
ward him. Her hands came out from 
her cloak as she walked. They were 
long and slender. As she drew near 
she held her arms up as if to embrace 
him. He could see her gleaming teeth 
in the faint light cast off by the small 
flashlight. They were small and 
pointed like needles. 

Dr. Schwick suddenly felt a warm 
glow emanate from the cross hidden 
under his shirt. At the same time an 
expression of pain crossed the face 
of the woman and she sprang back. 

She recovered, but did not attempt 
to come close again. Instead, she 
looked at him half fearfully and with 
a new respect. 

Until then the doctor had not spok- 
en. Nov/ his voice sounded; soft and 
with soothing tones. 

“You must be so lonely here with 

no one around.” 

“Yes, I am,” she answered. “It is so 
seldom that anyone comes, and when 
they do they don’t remain for very 
long. I get so very lonely, and I love 
people so very much.” 

“That is why I have come to see 
you,” Dr. Schwick said pittyingly. 
“I have a plan for you so that people 
will always be coming to be near you 
and feel your presence even when 
they can’t see you as I can. V/ould 
you like that?” 

“Oh, yes!” she said eagerly. “That 
, would be so wonderful. Then I 
wouldn’t have to hurt anyone. I don’t 
like to hurt people and drive them 


away. I want them to stay and talk.” 

An expression of pain crossed her 
mask like face. Her beauty was be- 
yond description, and her eyes were 
dark depths that seemed to open into 
infinite space where no light could 
shine. 

“I have a friend,” Dr. Schwick said 
slowly, “who is able to step out of his 
body and let you enter and use it. 
That body is trained to run a type- 
writer. You could USE that body and 
write the story of your life. Then 
people could read it and learn about 
you. You would become famous and 
people would come every day. Not 
many, but enough to keep you strong 
and happy. Would you like that?” 

“Oh yes!” she exclaimed. She held 
up her arms and started toward the 
doctor again. The cross warmed up 
slightly and she stepped back. 

“If I bring this friend you must 
promise not to drink of his life,” Dr. 
Schwick warned. “If you did he would 
weaken and be unable to write, and 
then people could not read your story 
and no one would come.” 

“I promise. Oh, I promise,” she 
breathed. “I would do anything to 
have people come to see me.” 

“Then be ready for us tomorrow 
night when it is dark.” 

Dr. Schwick pulled on Dr. Bow- 
den’s shoulder, and backed slowly to- 
ward the door. 

T^/HEN THEY v/ere once again in 
” the car and the blocks were 
speeding by that took them farther 
and farther from the house, Dr. 
Schwick took a handkerchief and 
wiped the persperation from his brow. 
Dr. Bowden chuckled doubtfully. 
“You know, doctor,” he said wryly. 
“If I uadn’t known you for years, and 
if I had any other good explanation 
for all this, I would think you were 
crazy. Back in there you carried on a 
one sided conversation for all the 


90 


AMAZING STORIES 


world like you were actually hearing 
someone answer. Who was it? Man 
woman or child ?” 

“It was a woman,” Dr. Schwick said 
weakly. “The most beautiful woman 
in the world. And I have to kill her if 
I can. Not only to prevent her from 
finding more victims, but also to 
send her where she belongs.” 

He was silent for awhile, then he 
went on. 

“You see, doctor,” he said. “Back in 
the dark ages vampires were adepts in 
the Black Brotherhoods. They re- 
ceived skilled instructions in their 
art. Through the systematic efforts of 
the Church their ranks were decimat- 
ed until only here and there could 
one be found. Finally the art died 
out, largely, and only appears today 
when some adept of Evil rediscovers 
it, or some untrained soul stumbles 
onto it. This woman is I believe one 
of the latter. She evidences none of 
the evil atmosphere of the adept 
Black Brother. She is simple like a 
child is simple, and sees no wrong in 
what she does. Perhaps she isn't 
aware of doing it, but has rationalized 
it into something natural and human. 

“Her body must be found so that 
she can be set free. Otherwise she will 
be chained here forever. I don't doubt 
we will find that this neighborhood 
has had a long series of strange deaths 
over the past few years, all unac- 
counted for. And they can all be laid 
at the door of this house! That should 
quiet your natural skepticism even- 
tually. We can't wait for that though. 
Tomorrow night I'm bringing Orville 
Chadwick with me and giving him his 
first chance to put his gift to a prac- 
tical use.” 

“Do you want me along?” Dr. Bow- 
den asked as he turned onto the street 
where Dr. Schwick lived. 

“Oho yes !” Dr. Schwick exclaimed. 
“I don't think I would have the cour- 
age to go through with it without 


you. You see, actually I'm scared to 
death of that woman. You would be 
too if you could see her. And since 
you can’t see her you are able to stand 
on solid mental ground. You don’t 
know what it means to my courage 
when she is slowly inching her way 
toward me, and I know that except 
for this cross magnetised and charged 
against vampires I would be helpless 
against her, to feel the calm material 
sensibleness of your unperturbed 
shoulder under my hand. Of course I 
want you along.” 

TPHE NEXT evening shortly after 
A the last traces of twilight had 
fled, leaving a moonless, overcast «sky 
which hung over the landscape like 
a cloak of black mystery, Dr. Bow- 
den’s car again drew to the curb be- 
fore the house. 

This time Orville Chadwick accom- 
panied the two doctors, his portable 
typewriter firmly gripped in his right 
fist. 

As they neared the house a dark 
shadow glided swiftly toward them 
out of the darkness ahead. Dr. Bow- 
den snapped on his flashlight. It re- 
vealed a large, dilapidated looking 
tom cat with tawny green eyes. One 
of its ears was split from some fight 
long ago. 

It spit at the light and backed into 
the darkness. When the doctor shut 
off his flashlight the cat returned, 
signalling its friendliness with a 
plaintive mew. 

Its glowing eyes kept pace with 
the three men, and when they paused 
at the front door it sellected Orville 
as the object of its affections and 
rubbed ecstatically against his legs, 
its purring noise loud in the stillness. 

When the men entered tl*e house 
the cat went in with them, darting 
past Dr. Schwick's kicking foot as 
the doctor tried to prevent his enter- 
ing. Inside, the cat stayed well away 


VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


91 


from the men so that it was impossi- 
ble to catch it and put it out. 

In the light of the flashlight Or- 
ville chose a side table against one* 
wall. There was a small table lamp 
on it. He turned this on and set up 
his typewriter with a small pile of 
blank paper next to it. Then he sat 
down in front of it and closed his 
eyes. 

To the eyes of Dr. Bowden it mere- 
ly seemed that after a few moments 
Orville opened his eyes and com- 
menced typing rapidly. But to the 
eyes of Dr. Schwick something 
strange and unearthly transpired. 

Almost immediately after Orville 
closed his eyes Dr. Schwick saw a 
pale cloudy substance that seemed to 
rise slowly from the still form of the 
young typist. It seemed to be flow- 
ing out of the region around his left 
ear and settling slowly to the floor, 
piling up until it reached a heighth 
of better than five feet. 

Within this faintly luminous 
cloudy area were slow swirlings and 
spiralings which swiftly took form 
until an exact replica of Orville stood 
beside him, connected to the seated 
form by a thin pencil of white which 
momentarily lit up so that its glow 
seemed to cast shadows and light 
through the room. Then it died down 
to a pale yellow which pulsated slow- 
ly as if in time to the heartbeat. 

Then out of the darkness a figure 
approached the seated man until it 
stood just behind him at his right 
shoulder. Folds of the dark cloak that 
shrouded the vampire creature rose 
over the seated man, and long, slender 
hands emerged to poise above his 
head. 

Slowly they descended until they 
rested just above his scalp, and then 
they went inward until they seemed 
buried, and only the wrists showed. 

A galvanic shock spread through 
the seated figure and his hands came 


to life at the keyboard of the ma- 

* 

chine. A few stacato raps sounded ex- 
perimentally, and then the typewriter 
vibrated to the rapid typing of those 
trained hands, now controlled by the 
strange thing out of the mystery and 
darkness which one man could see and 
the other could not. 

And as the typewriter worked in 
monotonous rhythm a strange story 
unfolded. As it unfolded both doctors 
leaned forward to read it as fast as 
the words appeared. 

AT LAST I can write my story! 
** You, the reader, whoever you 
may be, can’t know what a relief that 
is; — but you will when you know 
what I am. You'll notice I said 
WHAT I am, and not WHO I am. 
You see, I am really nobody, although 
I am several things including people. 
I'm also a cat, — a big mangy tomcat 
that comes yowling for his breakfast 
at the back door every morning. Also 
I'm two mice that live in the basement 
and are deathly afraid of the big cat, 
although actually he is too lazy to 
catch me, — I mean the mice that live 
in the basement. 

It's all rather confusing even to me 
at times. Sometimes I think I must 
be the spirit of some person who died 
in this house long ago who doesn't re- 
member anything about it now; but 
the mind is so tricky. Take yours, for 
instance. Is' it located in your brain? 
You think so? How do you know? 
When it thinks does it know WHERE 
it thinks? No! It just knows THAT 
it thinks. 

Actually your mind could be doing 
its thinking on the moon, for all you 
know, and you would never be the 
wiser so long as the senses through 
which you became aware of things 
operated from your body alone. The 
brain could be a two way robot con- 
trol running the body and in* contact 
with the seat of thought on the moon. 


92 


AMAZING STORIES 


It can’t be proven that such isn’t the 
case. 

In my case I have the same trouble, 
but with added complications, because 
the members of the “body” that I call 
mine for the same reason you call 
your little finger “yours” are not all 
physically connected, but able to 
move separately in space and inde- 
pendently. 

For example, the cat. He is to me 
like one of your fingers is to you. 
Through the sense of touch you are 
able to perceive things in a certain 
way and in certain detail through 
your finger. Also, by an effort of 
will, you can manipulate the things 
within reach of your finger to a cer- 
tain extent. I do the same through 
the cat. 

He has a certain degree of freedom 
and does certain habitual things when 
I am not exactly concentrating on 
him, just as your finger has a certain 
amount of involuntary muscular ac- 
tion and does certain habitual things 
without your thinking of them at all. 

And when you concentrate your 
attention on your finger exclusively, 
letting the rest of your body and 
senses idle, so to speak, I doubt if 
your finger is any more aware of the 
assumption of control over it than the 
cat is when I concentrate my con- 
scious mind and will in him. 

I can at will “become” the cat in 
exactly the same sense that you can at 
will “become” your finger, — making 
its every feeling fully conscious, and 
its every slightest move completely 
under the control of your will. 

You do it through the connecting 
nerves from the finger to the brain. 
I do it — well I don’t know HOW I 
do it. I don’t have any connecting 
nerves from the cat to “me” that I 
know of nor do I know “where” I do 
. my thinking. 

I don’t even use nerves to feel 
through unless they are in living 


things. I can be aware through the 
banister on the stairs just as keenly 
as through the hand that touches it. 

T CAN feel the hand touch the rail 
and the rail touch the hand, just as 
you can feel your hand touch your 
chin and your chin touch your hand 
when you rub your chin. There’s no 
real difference except that you do it 
through neural force and I do it 
through something that I don’t know 
any more about than you do. 

But I’m not going to let my story 
degenerate into a philosophical dis- 
cussion that can’t get anywhere. You 
can argue about whether a fish thinks 
and has a conscious mind and not get 
anywhere. People HAVE done that 
seriously. Well, I DO think, and I 
have a conscious mind, and I am tell- 
ing my story, or about to do so. I’ve 
just been explaining about myself be- 
cause I doubt if you would get any 
sense out of the story otherwise. 

I’d better do just a little more ex- 
plaining. You might say that I’m the 
spirit of a house, because my aware- 
ness through inanimate things cen- 
ters about the house and the grounds 
and doesn’t go any further. Yet my 
awareness through the things that 
live in the house extends even when 
they go a long ways away. Also it 
penetrates slowly into new things 
that move into the house. 

With new furniture it takes a few 
weeks for me to be aware through it. 
With people, — well; some of them be- 
come a part of me right away. Others 
seem to have a shell about them that 
makes them to me what a pebble 
would be to your digestive system. 
You’ll see what I mean; and before I 
get through telling my story you’ll 
probable realize I DO exist, and that 
there are millions of thinking, con- 
scious — entities, for want of a better 
term, that are just like me. It may 


VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


93 


well be that YOU are a part of one 
without having ever suspected it be- 
fore ! 

One more thing. The little finger 
on your right hand can't become di- 
rectly aware of the little finger on 
your left hand. It can reach over and 
touch it, twine itself about it, etc., but 
can't reach through that system of 
neural chanels and “contact” it di- 
rectly and mentally. To be sure, it 
can work in harmony with its mate 
in the operation of typing, playing 
the piano, and other things; but that 
is through obeying the central intel- 
ligence. And it obeys the central in- 
telligence without being aware that 
it is doing so. It’s a one way circuit. 

In the same way, I am aware 
through the cat and the mice, and can 
coordinate their moves just as you 
coordinate the movements of your 
two hands; but the cat and the mice 
and the people and the house that are 
ME can't be aware of me or reach up 
into my mind and be aware of the 
other members of my “body” any 
more than your two hands can. 

You might say, “Well, if you are 
so common, why don't more entities 
like you use some person that is to 
you like a hand is to me, and tell 
their story?" 

To that all I can say is, “You'd be 
surprised. YOU'D BE SUR- 
PRISED!" 

And now to my story. 

fyrY FIRST memories are of 
spring; beautiful, wonderful 
spring with a breeze rattling the win- 
dows and doors, the two mice in the 
basement scurrying about caring for 
their new family of seven little mice, 
and the big old mangy tom cat under 
the back steps eating a robin he just 
caught, —with the smell and taste of 
fresh, warm blood. 

Ah! It was wonderful! Those are 
my first memories. Not my first, real- 


ly; but the first I care to recall. 

Why SHOULD I recall anything 
before that. It was all a mistake. Any- 
way, the people were afraid of me. 
ME! Imagine that! But what right 
have you got to ask me about that? 
Answer me ! Listen to me, reader. 
You are only supposed to read my 
story, not start asking questions. Just 
remember that and not be so curious 
about what happened to the people 
that used to live here. The real estate 
people wouldn't, tell you, so why 
should I ? I didn’t do anything to 
them. They did it to themselves. May- 
be I helped them just a little, but not 
much. 

Anyhow — 

While the cat was under the back 
porch eating the robin I felt foot 
steps on the front walk and pricked 
up my ears. Maybe the for rent sign 
was going to entice — I mean bring 
some new owners. 

A pleasant feminine voice was talk- 
ing. 

“Oh, isn’t this house just darling, 
Fred?” it said. “That roof is so cozy 
looking the way it sweeps down and 
protects the house with its wide 
eaves. I think it would be perfect 
with a coating of green shingle stain 
and all that moss scraped off." 

“Roof’s in excellent shape.” That 
was Mr. Harris, the real estate man. 
He had sold me — I mean the house, 
four or five times already. 

“Nice approach." The new voice 
was Fred. “That front porch and 
steps really set off the house. I like 
it, don’t you too, Edith?” 

“I love it," Edith said, her voice 
purring with anticipation. “The two 
maple trees protect the house from 
the sun, and look at those lovely flow- 
ers. The lawn needs mowing, but its 
thick and healthy." 

“Intended to get a boy over to mow 
the lawn this morning,” Mr. Harris 
said. “I'll see that it's done before 


94 


AMAZING STORIES 


you move in.” 

“If we buy it,” Fred corrected with 
a chuckle. 

“I don’t think you’ll pass it up,” 
Mr. Harris said confidently. “It’s a 
steal at three thousand. If I had the 
money I’d buy it myself instead of 
selling for the owner. He needs the 
money badly and priced it for a quick 
sale.” 

uPHE QUICK nervous stride of 
feminine shoes went tap-tap-tap 
up the front steps to the porch. It 
sent shivers of ecstacy through the 
steps. 

The mangy old tomcat under the 
back steps lifted his head from the 
robin and pricked up his pointed ears 
while he licked the blood off his 
whiskers thoughtfully. 

The heavier strides of the two men 
followed, and a key scraped in the 
front door lock, then turned with a 
snap and the door swung open. 

A few cautious footsteps took the 
three past the threshold, then there 
was quiet. 

I knew what was going on. You do 
too. It’s funny how people are so ma- 
terialistic in their thinking and be- 
liefs, yet will pause on a doorstep 
and probe with their psychic tendrils 
like a half blind insect waving its 
antennae. 

Edith shivered half doubtfully. 

“What a musty feeling this house 
has,” she exclaimed. 

“Just needs a little airing out,” Mr. 
Harris said hastily, “You know how it 
is. When a house is lived in the 
housewife opens the windows to air 
the place out, but when it’s vacant we 
have to keep the windows all closed 
to protect the place from vandals and 
the weather.” 

“Sure,” Fred agreed. “That’s all it 
is, Edith.” 

Fred was smoking a pipe. The vel- 
vety drapery of tobacco smoke 


drifted across the room and blended 
into the dance of glistening dust par- 
ticles in the light that streamed in 
through the windows. 

“Solid oak flooring throughout the 
house,” Mr. Harris pointed out. “You 
don’t find that ordinarily in any- 
thing under five thousand.” 

“The front room is just perfect,” 
Edith said. I could tell she was mak- 
ing an effort to shake off her fear. 
Her mind was telling her that of 
course the house needed airing. 
“Don’t you like the way that archway 
divides the dining room from the big- 
ger front room without really sepa- 
rating them?” 

“This house was designed by an 
architect,” Mr. Harris said. “So many 
houses are just put together by a car- 
penter without any architectural 
sense. Notice how handy these two 
closets are on either side of the front 
entrance. Twenty guests could hang 
their wraps there without crowding.” 

“Very nice,” Fred approved. 

“We have three doors,” Mr. Harris 
explained. “The one on the right 
leads to the kitchen. It’s a swinging 
door. The center one leads to the 
back hall which opens on the down- 
stairs bathroom and master bedroom. 
This one on the left is to the study, 
music room, library, or sewing room, 
— whichever you want to call it, a 
nice nine by ten room with large win- 
dows in it.” 

TTE OPENED the door to it and 
'*■ **• led the way. He pointed out the 
closet without opening its door. An- 
other door led to the back hall with- 
out having to re-enter the front of 
the house. 

“Everything’s designed to be han- 
dy,” Mr. Harris said, waxing warm to 
his subject. “The bathroom is acces- 
sable to the front of the house, the 
stud}', the kitchen, the master bed- 
room, or even the upstairs, without 


VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


95 


having to cross any other part of the 
house. Its a little clumsy the way the 
door to the stairs opens up against 
the bedroom door here, and if I 
owned the house and intended to live 
in it I would just take the door to 
the upstairs off and stick it in the 
basement. The owner was going to do 
that, then decided against it because 
he never used the second floor and 
this door kept the heat from going up. 
Cut’s down on fuel.” 

He led the way into the kitchen. 

“The cellar stairs are right under 
the ones to the second floor,” he said. 
“Notice how handy the kitchen is. No 
extra miles of walking in THIS 
kitchen. Cabinets galore, too. A place 
to put everything. No breakfast nook, 
but a nice airy window with plenty of 
space for a breakfast table. Nice back 
porch.” 

He threw open the back door to 
show them. The mangy old tom cat 
came out from under the back steps 
and took the steps in one leap. 

His tawny eyes sized Edith up 
professionally and rubbed against her 
nylons with just the right shade of 
pathetic loneliness to touch a warm 
spot in her heart. 

“Oh yes,” Mr. Harris chuckled- “He 
goes with the place. Been here since 
he was a kitten. Won’t leave.” 

Edith picked him up and he settled 
down in her arms with his motor 
purring loudly Happily content, he 
licked the last vestiges of robin blood 
from his whiskers. 

“Two car garage,” Mr. Harris said 
deprecatingly, pointing to it on the 
back of the property. Then he led 
the way into the kitchen. 

“Upstairs are two bedrooms,” he 
said. Then, giving Edith a sly look 
he added, “Plenty of room for the 
family to expand.” He gave her an- 
other look, decided the humor of his 
remark had been lost, and turned his 
mind back to the practicalities of sell- 


ing the house. “Solid oak flooring 
upstairs, too,” he tossed at them as 
bait to make them interested. 

Edith shivered. 

“What’s the matter, honey?” Fred 
asked her. 

“I don’t know,” she said, laughing. 
“I guess the cat — what’s his name 
anyway?” 

“I don’t know,” Mr Harris said. 
“Call him Tom if you want to. That’s 
what I call him.” 

“I guess,” Edith continued, “that 
Tom must have made me shiver.” 

Mr. Harris led the way upstairs, 
followed by Edith, carrying Tom, 
and her husband Fred. 

“All plastered walls and ceilings 
all over the house,” Mr. Harris said. 
“The house is a steal at three thou- 
sand.” Cannily, he stopped talking to 
give this hint a chance to do its work. 

I could sense what was going on in 
their minds. Edith was thinking of 
her sister Ada, out of work and want- 
ing to come to the city to look for a 
job. A conflict there, — 

Fred was thinking of the double 
garage. It would be nice to have two 
cars. He was wondering a little about 
the lowness of the price for the 
house, but not too much. 

The mangy old cat was dreaming 
of the return of days when he would 
get a regular morning saucer of milk 
and have a soft chair to curl up in. 

Mr. Harris was feeling sorry for 
Fred and Edith. “Business is busi- 
ness,” he kept repeating in his mind 
to drown out the urge that made him 
want to tell them about — well, about 
the peculiar coincidence of so many 
things happening to the people who 
moved into this house. 

I whispered into his mind that co- 
incidences have a way of running out 
and that THIS time everything 
might work out O.K. . He seemed 
quite happy about this thought, but I 
had to spoil his happiness by chuck- 


96 


AMAZING STORIES 


ling afterwards. This made him 
frown. He hid the frown by starting 
downstairs. 

\V7ELL, NO definite decision was 
reached in the house. Edith 
dropped the cat reluctantly on the 
front porch as they left. 

I began to wonder if they had de- 
cided against it after a couple of days 
passed without them coming back. 
But on the third day interior decora- 
tors came and loafed around, manag- 
ing to do an incredible amount of 

painting without exerting themselves. 

# 

I ignored them 

Three days after that a moving van 
stopped in front. I moved the mangy 
old cat around to the front of the 
house behind a shrub and watched 
what went on. 

Edith drove up and unlocked the 
front door with a proprietary air. Af- 
ter that there was a bustle of activity 
all over the place. 

A boy came at noon and mowed the 
lawn. The meter man came and 
turned on the lights. The water de- 
partment truck drove up and a man 
turned on the water. 

At five o’clock another truck came 
and a man put in a telephone. By that 
time Edith was busy in the kitchen, 
taking dishes out of barrels, pots and 
pans out of boxes, and food out of 
the carton the moving men had taken 
out of her car. 

At six when everything had quieted 
down somewhat there was a light step 
on the front porch and Fred came in. 

“Fm home, honey,” he shouted. 

. Edith bustled out of the kitchen, 
her mind purring with happiness. It 
was a very touching scene, but I’ve 
seen it before. Impractical. I like 
the practical outlook in life. Some- 
thing like th cat’s. Direct and to the 
point without a lot of flowery sen- 
timent. However there was nothing 
I could do about it yet. 


Just as YOU can’t teach yourself 
control over your muscles in a day so 
that you can bowl a perfect score or 
play a perfect game of tennis or swim 
as fast as a world champion. I too 
have limitations which only time can 
erase. Time and patience. They con- 
quer all. 

TT WAS the next day that Edith 
A broke her leg by falling down the 
cellar steps. Don’t blame me. It was 
her fault, really. I only intended to 
scare her a little. 

You see, I knew she was going to 
go down to the basement, so I had 
the little papa mouse climb half way 
up the steps. When she opened the 
cellar door I suggested to him that if 
he remained still she wouldn’t see 
him. 

Then when she was on the step 
above him I told him if he didn’t run 
he might get stepped on. He ran, all 
right. 

It frightened Edith so much she 
forgot where she was and jumped like 
there might be a table or a chair han- 
dy to land on. When she came down 
her leg caught crooked and snapped. 
The fall down the rest of the steps 
with that broken leg made her pass 
out. 

It’s to my credit, I suppose, that I 
reached out and put the idea into Mr. 
Harris’s mind that it would be a good 
time to drop around and see how the 
new owners were faring. He arrived 
shortly after Edith came to. She 
heard his knock and screamed like all 
getout. 

The look on his face when he stood 
at the head of the stairs and saw her 
laying there with her leg all twisted 
was something to look at. He looked 
like he had done it himself. I watched 
the whole thing through the eyes of 
the little mama mouse where she hid 
behind a lump of coal near the fur- 
nace. 


VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


97 


Mr. Harris had quite a time con- 
vincing Edith she had to remain 
where she was until the doctor came, 
but on his solemn promise to come 
right back she let him go up into the 
kitchen and phone for the doctor and 
her husband. 

Well, they bustled Edith off to the 
hospital on a stretcher and Fred went 
with her. He came back about ten 
o’clock that night looking like he had 
been on a week end drunk and it was 
Monday morning. He hadn’t been 
drinking at all. That was just the way 
he looked. • 

I had some fun that night for the 
first time in quite a while. Whenever 
he went to sleep I painted him a pic- 
ture of Edith in some terrible pre- 
dicament while he was enjoying him- 
self at work. One time she would be 
lying in the basement with a broken 
leg for days while he went on a trip 
all over the country. Another time 
she would be trapped in a closet with 
the door stuck. 

Along towards morning I thought 
up a really good one. It had him 
sweating. Edith was in bed with a big 
cast on her leg, unable to move, and 
the house was burning down around 
her. He v/as outside trying to get in 
and the firemen were dragging him 
back while Edith’s dying screams tor- 
tured him. He woke up from that 
one and was afraid to go back to 
sleep. 

Instead, he went into the front 
room and wrote a letter. Then he tore 
it up and went into the kitchen to the 
phone and sent a telegram to Edith’s 
sister for her to come right away. 

I liked that. 

HE SISTER Ada must have been 
packed and ready to start when 
she got the telegram, because she ar- 
rived the next afternoon. I don’t 
know WHERE she came from. I nev- 
er found out, and in these days of 


travel by air she could have come a 
thousand miles from any direction. 

Anyway, she got here. It was six 
o’clock and Fred was fixing himself 
something to eat; a can of beans, a 
can of soup, some coffee, a couple of 
slices of bread, with a cupcake for de- 
sert, — the regular batchelor dinner of 
a married man when his wife’s away, 
unless he has a yen to be a cook lurk- 
ing somewhere in his subconscious. 

There’s a weak spot in the hot wa- 
ter pipe just under the sink that I 
was getting ready to let go, just to 
annoy Fred and make him miss his 
dinner before going to see Edith that 
evening, when the front doorbell 
rang. It was Ada. She had come out 
in a taxi. I saved the weak spot in the 
hot water pipe for some time. 

I settled into Fred’s subconscious 
and took a good look at Ada. She 
was worth looking at. Blond like her 
sister, but a couple of years younger, 
— around twenty. A little better look- 
ing, which is splitting hairs because 

I classified her five minutes after 
she arrived. Predatory where Fred 
was concerned. A match for me. I 
could see right away I was going to 
have a pretty good time before many 
days went by. I could see that by the 
way Ada’s eyes lit up when Fred 
told her Edith was still at the hospi- 
tal and couldn’t come home until the 
next day. 

Edith was well over the line where 
beauty begins. But where Edith’s 
curves were nice to look at, Ada’s 
were fascinating. Even Fred knew 
that. 

Unfortunately, women have minds 
as well as bodies. They have tongues 
that are linked to both, and that was 
where Edith had it over her sister 
Ada. She was nice enough. Fred liked 
her. In fact he more than liked her. 
He was drawn by her physical charms 
and repelled by her mental lack of 
charm compared to her sister. 



98 


AMAZING STORIES 


Well/ Ada put on the capable fe- 
male act, taking over the job of fix- 
ing Fred a decent dinner, using one 
of Edith’s aprons to good effect. It 
was worth a chuckle to see how Fred 
tried to down the thought that rose 
to his mind how much nicer Ada 
filled out the apron than Edith had. 
And with Edith in the hospital suf- 
fering with a broken leg! What a 
heel! But sometimes a man can’t con- 
trol his eyes or his thoughts any 
more than I can control them. All he 
can do is steer them. 

A DA AND Fred left a little after 
** seven for the hospital to see 
Edith. Fred was worrying a little. He 
knew that Edith wouldn’t like having 
Ada alone in the house with him all 
night. However, he was afraid to sug- 
gest to Ada that she’d better stay 
home and tell Edith the next day that 
she’d just arrived. 

And he didn’t know that Ada had 
nearly broken her neck to get there 
the same day in the hope that Edith 
WOULDN’T be able to be home 
right away. 

They forgot to put the cat out be- 
fore they left, so I amused myself 
while they were gone by having the 
cat prowl around the basement look- 
ing for mice. 

The poor little mama mouse was 
frantic with fear that he might find 
her nest with all her babies in it. I 
purposely made him lie down and go 
to sleep after awhile not three feet 
from where the nest was hidden in an 
old apple box. Every time he 
twitched his whiskers the mama 
mouse had a fit! Mother love is sure 
something. There that mama mouse 
sat, guarding her offspring with her 
life. I honestly think she would have 
let the mangy old cat catch her to 
save her young, but I wouldn’t 
think of doing that. After all, when 
the people were gone all I’d have to 


amuse me would be the cat and the 
mice, and the mangy old cat wouldn’t 
be able to get inside then, either. 

KRED AND Ada got back abeut 
■** eleven. They’d stopped someplace 
and had a decent meal and a few 
drinks of beer. 

It’s moments like that I live for. 
One thing I have to say for Ada; — 
she knew what she was doing. 

Fred showed her to her bedroom 
and carried her bags upstairs for her. 
Then he went to the front room and 
settled down in an easy chair and 
started reading the evening paper. 

Ada came downstairs and ran some 
water in the bathtub. Then she went 
into the front room and asked Fred 
where the towels were. Her bathrobe 
was draped a little carelessly. Not 
open; Nothing vulgar. But just so it 
looked like it might come open at 
every step she took. 

Her blonde hair was combed out so 
that it hung about her shoulders. The 
neck of the bathrobe was partly open, 
— revealingly, but not too revealingly. 

She had studied her appearance in 
front of the bathroom mirror before 
going into the living room and ar- 
ranged her bathrobe very carefully. 

There’s no question about it. She 
was a very alluring sight, standing in 
the doorway from the hall, one leg 
showing up to the knee, her hair 
hanging around her shoulders in sub- 
tle undress, and a generous expanse 
of skin showing below her chin. 

She lowered her eyes at Fred’s 
startled gaze when she asked him for 
a towel. I thought for a minute he 
was going to tell her where one was. 
That’s where he made his mistake. He 
decided to get her one. 

Well, they were even there, be- 
cause she knew where they were too. 
They were in the linen closet in the 
bathroom. 

While he was reaching to get one 


VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


99 


she loosened the knot on the rope 
that tied around the bathrobe a little 
more. 

He reached down a towel and 
turned to hand it to her. She reached 
for it quite naturally and was quite 
properly embarrassed when her robe 
came open. 

It was at that point I concluded she 
should have become a great actress 
instead of wasting her time on penny 
ante stuff. 

She exclaimed in embarrassed 
alarm and reached to draw her robe 
about her. Then suddenly she turned 
quite pale and her hands paused in 
midair. 

She closed her eyes and turned her 
face up. Her lips were partly open. 

YV^ELL, — it’s not hard to guess 
what .Fred might have done. 
His wife was in the hospital with a 
broken leg and he loved her very 
much even without the broken leg. 
Also he wasn't a cad or a wolf. Just 
the same he was human. 

But Ada reckoned without me. She 
had done all that strictly on her own, 
so to speak, and it was so good I was 
beginning to feel a little outclassed. 
Of course it didn't compare in finesse 
with anything I could do. Fundamen- 
tally it was vulgar. It was done in 
such a way that Fred would have 
been convinced later that it was 
all his fault. Perhaps Ada could have 
made him wonder if he hadn't mar- 
ried Edith because he loved Edith's 
sister. 

There would have been the driving 
wedge of a baby on the way, (whether 
there was or not), the outraged wife 
who would quite rightly leave her 
husband and get a divorce, and then 
Ada would have what she wanted, — 
Fred. It didn’t happen that way 
though. 

Ada stood there, her arms partly 
raised as if arrested in the movement 


of her bathrobe about her, her face 
slightly lifted, her eyes closed, her 
lips partly open, her breath coming 
fast, her heart beating frantically; ex- 
pecting each instant to feel Fred's 
strong arms crush her to him. She 
waited for his lips to bruise hers in 
passion, to feel his fevered breath 
against her cheek, his crushing em- 
brace. 

Perhaps ten full seconds went by 
and it didn't happen. She opened her 
eyes feeling the same wondering un- 
belief a person might feel if he 
leaped over the edge of a thousand 
foot cliff to his death and opened his 
eyes to find himself floating in the 
air in violation of the laws of grav- 
ity. 

This feeling was succeeded by a 
symphony of varying emotions which 
is to me what a Beethoven is to a 
musician. 

You see, Fred was standing there, 
the towel dangling in his hand, and a 
bored grin on his face. His eyes were 
laughing at her. 

“Devastatingly corny,” he said. 
Then he draped the towel over her 
shoulder and left the bathroom, a 
hearty, amused chuckle drifting back 
from his departing figure like a slap 
in the face. 

Of course, Ada could not guess that 
it was not Fred, but I with whom she 
was dealing at that moment. The 
shock to Fred's equilibrium in that 
moment when he had turned from the 
linen closet to see her bathrobe fall 
open, her face lift, her eyes close, and 
her lips part in surrender, had been 
just enough to make it possible for 
me to take over completely. 

When he got back to the front 
room and sat down to continue read- 
ing the evening paper he had a vague 
idea that he had closed his eyes and 
handed over the towel and then es- 
caped from an embarrassing situation 
quite gracefully. In fact, he felt quite 



100 


AMAZING STORIES 


pleased with himself. 

7\J0T SO with Ada. Poor girl. Her 
^ ^ pride had received a mortal 
blow. For a full five minutes she 
stood trembling, mentally killing 
Fred in the most horrible ways im- 
aginable. I noted with considerable 
satisfaction that she had quite a su- 
periority complex, and that this 
blow would not go unavenged. 

Her mind was much like that of the 
mangy old tom cat in that it was sim- 
ple and practical and tended to pick 
some objective and work toward that 
until it gained it. She would not be 
satisfied with a mediocre revenge. 
Not her. 

And what she might lack in — fi- 
ness, yours truly would be GLAD to 
supply. 

Oh, but it was good to have the 
warmth of human emotion to bask in 
once again ; to play upon it as a great 
musician plays an organ in a cathe- 
dral, to dwell upon the rich overtones 
and chords, lightly cascade across the 
melody and improvise my own varia- 
tions to enliven the theme. And as a 
Rubinstein would tuck a violin of 
rare richness of tone more lovingly 
under his chin and caress its strings 
more fondly, so I settled more se- 
curely about the aura of Ada and 
soothed the pulsating throb of her 
heart with my gentlest mental touch, 
smoothing the folds of her ruffled 
temper into a shape more suited to 
my desires. 

The strength of her rage and thwart- 
ed passion flowed into me and I grew 
strong, — stronger than I had been for 
a long time. I grew too greedy and 
drained more of her life force into 
my being than she could reasonably 
spare. It wasn’t my fault, really. I 
didn’t realize what I was doing until 
she swayed dizzily as she was getting 
into the tub. Then it was too late to 
do anything about it. She slipped and 


fell, hitting her head against the tub 
faucets. 

Then she slipped into the tub and 
pretty soon the water rose high 
enough in the tub to cover her head. 

I knew she was going to drown if I 
didn’t do something, so I tried to get 
Fred to rush in and save her. 

He wouldn’t have any of it. I 
screamed into his brain that Ada was 
lying in the tub unconscious. Do you 
know what he answered? He thought 
I was just an evil part of his subcon- 
scious trying to whomp up an excuse 
for him to break into the bathroom. 

He said to himself, “How would it 
look if I rushed in there while she 
was bathing and said, 'Oh, you’re all 
right ! I thought you were drown- 
ing/?” 

Finally I gave up trying and went 
back to Ada. There was no use 
WASTING her life energy when I 
could use it ALL, was there? I felt 
very sorry for her and very ashamed 
of myself right then; but the new en- 
ergy in my system soon buoyed up 
my spirits. 

/ 

TT WAS NEARLY an hour later 

before Fred began to worry about 
his presentimemt, as he called it, and 
the substantiating fact that the water 
was still running. He knocked on the 
bathroom door and called, '‘Are you 
all right, Ada?” 

He kept knocking and calling for a 
couple of minutes before he worked 
up nerve enough to open the door and 
peek in. Then he rushed in and 
turned the water off. After that he 
just stood there and looked at Ada’s 
dead body lying under the water 
with one knee breaking the surface. 
He was sort of dazed. 

Finally he went into the kitchen to 
the phone and called the doctor that 
had fixed his wife’s leg. After he 
hung up he started back to the bath- 
room, then went out on the front 


VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


101 


porch instead and sat on the steps 
smoking cigarets until the doctor 
came. 

I tried my best to comfort him. He 
wouldn’t listen to my voice, so final- 
ly I made the tom cat come around 
and rub against his legs and purr. 
That helped a little. 

The doctor stopped his car out in 
front and came up the front walk 
with his short legs going almost at a 
run to keep up with him. Wordlessly 
Fred led him to the bathroom. 

The doctor reached under the wa- 
ter and pulled the plug. Then he 
changed his mind and put it back in 
again, and went into the kitchen and 
called the police. After that he went 
back to the bathroom and just looked 
at Ada’s body without touching it. 

When the police came they looked 
at it too. They even took pictures of 
it. 

After awhile another doctor came. 
They called him the coroner. He and 
the other doctor made everybody get 
out of the bathroom and stop looking 
at Ada’s body. Then they drained the 
water out of the tub and turned her 
over where they could get a better 
look at the place where her head had 
hit the faucet. 

They talked about it, but I couldn’t 
get what they were saying. You see, 
I get what people say by what they 
think, and some people are impossible 
to read. They seem to have shells 
around them like I said at the start 
of my story. These two doctors were 
like that. 

Right after the doctors went out of 
the bathroom the one called the coro- 
ner said something in a low voice to 
one of the policemen. I got that. They 
were taking Fred down and locking 
him up for his own protection. They 
were afraid from the way he looked 
that he might harm himself. The 
shock of having his wife break her 
leg, and then his sister-in-law drown 


in the bathtub the next day was too 
much, they thought. He should have 

time to get used to it. 

Well, that didn’t bother me. I liked 
Fred, and with all the new life Ada 
had supplied me it was easy to hang 
onto Fred all the way down to the 
police station. 

Vi77HEN THEY locked him up he 
” sat down on the edge of the cot 
in the cell and thought and thought 
and thought. I didn’t like that, be- 
cause I could see in what direction 
his thoughts were going. The trouble 
with him was that he was superstiti- 
ous. He had a superstitious idea that 
trouble always comes in threes. 

Finally he did what I feared he was 
going to do. He definitely made up 
his mind he would never set foot in 
the house again. He was going to call 
the real estate man the first thing in 
the morning and tell him to sell it 
over again. 

I could see myself living alone once 
more with nothing but the cat kill- 
ing birds and the mice raising baby 
mice in the basement. I could see 
Fred meant it. 

Well, it took a lot of energy to hang 
onto Fred way down at police head- 
quarters, and when I let go I wouldn’t 
be able to contact him again. I would 
be all alone maybe for months. 

I didn’t really mean to do him any 
harm. It was just that I couldn’t 
bring myself to cast off, and all the 
time I was draining life energy out 
of him. Along toward morning he got 
so weak and cold that it was impossi- 
ble to hang on any longer. 

It was sure lonely in the house all 
by myself. I dozed most of the time, 
leaving only fine threads of awareness 
connected with the mangy old tom 
cat and the mice in the basement. 
These would awaken me if anyone 
came, but no one did. 

It wasn’t until after dark that a 


102 


amazing stories 


nervous flutter in the mind of the 
mama mouse aroused me from my 
sleep. She had heard footsteps on the 
front porch. 

I prodded the cat and made him . 
run around to the front of the house 
so that I could get a good look at 
the people before trying to make con- 
tact with them directly. 

You see, I knew I had gone too far 
with Edith, Ada, and Fred. Through 
no fault of my own I was likely to 
get a bad reputation! 

I peeked at them through the cat's 
eyes around the corner of the house. 
There were two men. One was the 
doctor that had fixed Edith's broken 
leg, and also come when Ada had died 
in the bathtub. 

The other man was a stranger; a 
heavy man with an enormous stomach 
and short, pudgy fingers. 

The doctor was unlocking the door. 
When they stepped into the house I 
“felt” of the new man. Then I re- 
ceived a surprise. Two surprises, in 
fact. The first one was that he was 
perfectly aware that I was “feeling” 
him. The second was that he seemed 
to know all about me and wanted to 
be friendly! 

That was new to me. Everyone I 
had ever known had been so stupid 
that when I spoke to them they 
thought it was their own mind. But 
he was different. He KNEW. 

I guess I was so glad to find some- 
one to REALLY talk to that I for- 
got myself. I started to settle into his 
aura and make myself at home. Then 
I got my third surprise. 

When I got so far into his aura I 
received a distinct shock that made 
me see stars. It threw me completely 
out of balance and I had a hard time 
getting it back. After I had recovered 
enough to speak to the man again I 
found out he had done it deliberately. 

He wanted to be friends, but he. 
knew his stuff and would stand for 


no nonsense! That was a new experi- 
ence for me and I didn’t know 
whether I liked it or not at first. 

XV 7 E TALKED with each other for 
** perhaps an hour after that and 
got quite well acquainted. I told him , 
all about how lonely I was, and that I 
had only the old mangy tom cat and 
the mice for my life contacts most of 
the time. 

He seemed to know just what 1 
needed. He was a doctor too. Dr. 
Schwick. He said, “What you need is 
some sort of mental outlet. You need 
a large appreciative audience. To get 
that you should write your story.” 

He said he knew someone who was 
good at what he called automatic 
writing. He would bring that fellow 
with his typewriter, and all I would 
have to do would be to think out the 
details of my story and they would 
translate themselves into words in his 
mind, and flow out through his fin- 
gers into the typewriter. 

He left right after that, but he 
promised to come back the next night 
with this other fellow. After he left 
I could think of nothing else but my 
chance to write. 

He was as good as his word, too. 
The next night he and the other doc- 
tor and a young man with a portable 
typewriter came. 

I only hope my story makes people 
realize that I am worth knowing. I 
can just see the days to come when I 
am famous, with dozens of people 
coming to the house. Some of them 
will be so nice ! I can take just a 
little of their life force and become 
very strong. Then I won’t need to 
hurt anybody at all. 

I never want to hurt anybody, but 
when people are afraid of me, and 
only two or three people come around 
in a year, I get just starved for hu- 
man warmth and emotion. And things 
always seem to work against me, — 


VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


109 


like Edith falling and breaking her 
leg. 

* * * 

r T“ 1 HE TYPEWRITER stopped. So 
monotonous had become its 
rhythmic chatter that it seemed to 
continue after it had stopped in fact. 

Dr. Schwick had slowly moved 
around to where he could watch the 
face of the woman. It had a strange, 
compelling fascination for him with 
its other-world beauty and eyes that 
were limpid pools of bottomless 
night, seeming to open into realms 
where vague forms danced a devil 
dance around distant fires in the mad 
rites of witchcraft long gone into the 
limbo of the past. 

Slowly the white, slender fingers 
emerged from the skull of the seated 
man until they once more poised over 
him. Then the red lips of the woman 
parted to reveal her needle sharp 
teeth, and she bent slowly forward, 
her head turning slightly so that it 
could rest against his neck. 

Dr. Schwick stepped close. A shock 
seemed to grip the vampire creature 
and she sprung away, her face turn- 
ing to a mask of rage. 

The doctor faced her, protecting 
the seated form of the young man 
while the misty form of its dupli- 
cate swirled back through the thread 
of white into the body once more. 

Orville stirred and rubbed his eyes 
as if he had been asleep. Then Dr. 
Bowden dared to ask the question 
in his mind. 

“Can you tell where it is from 
what she wrote ?” he asked eagerly. 

“I think I know now,” Dr. Schwick 
said. “But perhaps we can make sure. 
Follow me, both of you, but keep 
behind me.” 

He advanced toward the vampire, 
who was now snarling and spitting 
like a cat, her features more than 
beautiful even in the paroxysms of 
insane rage. 


Slowly the creature retreated as 
the doctor advanced. And as he ad- 
vanced the other doctor and Orville 
followed at his back. 

This strange advance led through 
a doorway into the kitchen and half 
way across the kitchen. 

Suddenly the vampire figure van- 
ished. 

“Quickly!” Dr. Schwick shouted. 
His short legs carried him in agile 
leaps toward the door to the base- 
ment. As he bounded down the steps 
in the darkness his eyes darted 
around the basement. They saw a 
momentary flash of white over in one 
corner. Then it was gone. 

“The lights!” Dr. Schwick shouted. 

Dr. Bowden turned on his flash- 
light and found the light switch. The 
basement was flooded with a blind- 
ing glare that revealed every detail. 

Grim faced, he walked to a pile 
of boards in a far corner and started 
pulling them away. The two men 
joined him and shortly the concrete 
floor began to appear. 

Orville moved a board and there 
was a swift scampering of small 
things as they fled out of sight. 

“The mice,” Dr. Schwick said with 
a satisfied tone. “I was right. They 
had to be as close as possible to her 
grave so that she could hold contact 
through them during the daytime 
when her strength was at ebb tide.” 

“But this is solid concrete,” Dr. 
Bowden objected. 

“Yes,“ Dr. Schwick said regret- 
fully. “We’ll have to come back to- 
morrow with some workmen to break 
through. There’s nothing more we 
can do tonight. Let’s get out of 
here.” 

They turned to leave. 

On the cellar steps the cat stood 
barring the way. It’s back was arched 
and its hair on end. It snarled at 
them. 

Dr. Schwick reached into his coat 


104 


AMAZING STORIES 


and pulled out a small, caliber auto- 
matic and shot the cat. It fell back. 
Its eyes remained open, looking at 
the doctor mutely as he stood there 
with the gun in his hand. 

It mewed faintly, and just before 
its eyes grew dull in death there 
seemed to appear a look of gratitude 
and thanks for its release. 

TELL you it’s utterly insane.” 
The police captain said it 
in a tired, monotonous way like he 
had said it so much that he no long- 
er realized he was saying it. 

“Look at that floor. Look at itl” 
he repeated. “That concrete is at 
least ten years old.” 

“Fourteen,” Dr. Schwick corrected. 
“I looked it up at the building in- 
spector’s office the first thing this 
morning.” 

“All right! It’s fourteen years old 
then,” the captain said. “And it 
hasn’t been touched in fourteen years. 
How by all that’s holy can you know 
that there is a body under this spot?” 

“You don’t have to believe me,” 
Dr. Schwick said tolerantly. “You’ll 
find it when you break through and 
dig. I doubt if you’ll have to dig far. 
It will be the body of a woman who 
is very beautiful, not over thirty 
years old, and in a perfect state of 
preservation. It won’t be embalmed 
but it will be as fresh as the day it 
was lain there. The clothing will 
have rotted away, proving how long 
it has been there. Now dig and prove 
me a liar.” 

The police captain’s lips moved as 
if he were trying to speak. He gave 
up the attempt and turned to order 
the two workmen to start breaking 
the concrete floor. 

A large rectangle was drawn on 
the floor where Dr. Schwick had 
marked the area he wanted broken 
open. 

A grinning newspaper photogra- 


pher snapped a shot of the scene 
with one of the workmen with a 
large sledge hammer poised over his 
head as he prepared for the down- 
ward swing. The picture was taken at 
a perfect angle to get in the expres- 
sion of frustrated rage and puzzle- 
ment on the captain’s features and 
the unruffled calm of Dr. Schwick. 

The first two blows rebounded 
with a hollow sound. The third 
cracked the concrete with a dead 
sound. After that it was quick work 
to spread the break over the whole 
area and lift off the broken pieces. 

Before the area had been more than 
a third uncovered one of the work- 
men gave a gasp of excitement and 
redoubled his efforts. 

The body lay just under where the 
concrete had been. It was obvious 
that a shallow grave had been dug, — 
just deep enough to hold the body; 
and the concrete had been poured 
over it. 

It was covered with a shroud of 
mouldering black cloth which pulled 
away in pieces. 

% 

■pvR. SCHWICK stepped forward 
and tore away the covering over 
the head, revealing a face white and 
beautiful and so lifelike that he 
would not have been surprised if the 
nostrils had quivered and the body 
had started breathing. 

Dr. Schwick turned to Dr. Bowden 
and the coroner. 

“I would suggest you cremate this 
body before nightfall,” he said with 
quiet earnestness. 

Dr. Beasley, the coroner, bent over 
the body of the woman and tore off 
more of the rotten cloth. 

His face was slightly grey. His 
hand reached reluctantly toward his 
black bag, hesitating as if he were 
trying to resist doing what he 
wanted to do. 



VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


105 


With shaking hands he took out 
a hypodermic syringe and inserted 
it into a vein of the corpse and slow- 
ly pulled back on the plunger. An 
evily red fluid crept up into the 
glass tube. The three doctors watched 
it hypnotically. They were oblivious 
of the flash bulbs shot off by the 
press photographer. 

When the police captain saw the 
blood running into the syringe from 
a corpse that had to be at least four- 
teen years dead he turned a light 
shade of green and sat down on the 
floor. 

OU MIGHT think everything 
startling had happened al- 
ready in that story/’ Dr. Schwick 
said. He was talking to a small circle 
of friends many months later. “In the 
ordinary course of events you would 
think the coroner would take my ad- 
vice and cremate the body at once. 
He did, actually. But he kept the 
sample of blood and took it to his 
laboratory for analysis. 

“Also the police began tracking 
down the first owner of that house 
in order to solve the crime. There 
wasn’t a mark on the body to show 
any sign of violence; but, as Dr. 
Bowden remarked, any wound could 
have healed up in that fourteen years. 
At least it was no more improbable 
than the obvious fact that the blood 
had not coagulated and the unem- 
balmed body hadn’t decomposed. 

“They finally found the man. He 
had moved to another city but had 
not changed his name. They brought 
him back and accused him of mur- 
dering his wife, for that was who 
the woman was. 

“The man told a curious story. He 
said his wife had been a student of 
the occult and had been getting po- 
tions of various sorts from a mail 
order occult school that were sup- 
posed to put her in a trance. She had 


become so fascinated with the work 
that she barely remained conscious 
long enough each day to take care 
of bodily needs. 

“He had not believed in all that, 
but had let her go her way because 
he didn’t know what else he could 
do. He had remonstrated with her 
several times without any success. 
One day she did not wake up from 
her nightly, drug induced trance. He 
tried everything he could think of 
short of calling a doctor. Every at- 
tempt to waken her failed. 

“After three days of that he be- 
came convinced she was dead. He 
had visions of a doctor disbelieving 
his story and him being accused of 
murder. 

“At the time the basement of the 
house did not have a floor, but was 
just concrete walls with a dirt floor. 

“He had no intimate friends, and 
aside from him his wife had no rela- 
tives in the world. It would be quite 
simple to dispose of the body and 
move away. No one would ever miss 
his wife and report it. 

“He obtained the building permit 
to lay a concrete floor and did it 
himself, laying his wife’s body in a 
shallow grave before pouring the con- 
crete. 

“When asked about the nature of 
the drug he did not have the slight- 
est idea. He couldn’t remember the 
name of the company his wife had 
bought it from, nor where they were 
located. The police were at a dead 
end. They could hardly convict the 
man of murder under the circum- 
stances. They dropped the case and 
scratched it off the books. 

“Not so the coroner. He had that 
sample of blood and had been doing 
things with it. It seems he was one 
of the most outstanding technicians 
in the country in spite of his posi- 
tion as a coroner. 

“In two months he subjected that 



106 


AMAZING STORIES 


sample to the most advanced analy- 
sis possible in this day and age. He 
found out several things. They cast 
a great deal of light into the ancient 
mystery of vampirism, although they 
raise a greater one about where the 
mail order company that sold the 
dru? to the woman had obtained it. 

o 

R. BEASLEY took half his 
blood sample and made 
plasma out of it. He injected a drop 
of this plasma into each of six white 
rats. Nothing happened for ten days, 
then all six of the rats lost conscious- 
ness. All signs of respiration stopped 
completely. The heart stopped beat- 
ing. Yet day after day those six rats 
remained unchanged. Their blood re- 
mained fluid. Their body tempera- 
tures dropped down until they were 
fluctuating with the change of room 
temperature, yet the blood in those 
rats remained fluid, gradually thick- 
ening and growing darker as body 
liquid evaporated. 

“After another ten days had passed 
one of the rats began to undergo an- 
other change. His gradually dwin- 
dling body expanded to normal over- 
night. The body fluid had increased 
to normal unexplainably. This con- 
tinued. The other five rats soon 
dried out, yet this one rat did not. 

“With the idea of vampirism upper- 
most in the doctor’s mind he watched 
the living rats closely and soon could 
detect signs of weakening vitality 
among them. 

“He tried an experiment. He took 
the supposedly vampire rat into an- 
other part of the building and put 
a young and healthy rat in a cage 
near it. The next morning the young 
rat was seemingly dead. 

“The scientific mind of the cor- 
oner, now completely absorbed by the 
problem, overlooked n o possible 
clues. He did not destroy the body 
of the rat victim, but put it with the 


others that had apparently died. It too 
became a successful vampire. 

“The astral mechanism of vampir- 
ism did not concern the doctor. He 
believed he had something material 
in this that he could deal with, and 
he intended going no farther than 
laboratory technique could carry him. 
The supernatural aspects could wait. 

“He took more of the plasma, and 
plasma made from the infected, dead 
rats. He filtered this fluid to remove 
all bacteria and injected the fluid in 
a fresh batch of rats. Some of them 
became vampires and all of them lost 
consciousness permanently. 

“At last he could definitely prove 
that vampirism is caused by a filter- 
able virus. This explained the fact 
that vampires can turn their victims 
into vampires, by infecting them with 
this virus while sucking their blood. 

“He subjected the fluid containing 
the virus to all kinds of tests to de- 
termine its stability, the possibility 
of analysing its chemical structure, 
etcetera. Finally he turned to the 
hystology and studied the effects on 
the rats themselves. 

“I dropped in to see him almost 
every day and so did Dr. Bowden. 
We three were more or less working 
together on it, although Dr. Beasely 
did all the work. 

“After a month of dissection and 
tissue analysis we arrived at a star- 
tling conclusion. The virus gave the 
blood cells remarkably increased vi- 
tality and made them so they could 
thrive and multiply and move about. 
They ceased their subservient role 
in the body, no longer supplying the 
tissue with oxygen and carrying 
away poisons. The waste products 
of metabolism of these changed cells 
deposited on the walls of tissue cells 
and sealed them completely so that 
the structure of the body did not de- 
teriorate. Strangely, the nerve tissue 
and the brain did not lose out, but 



VIAL OF IMMORTALITY 


107 


seemed to remain alive and function- 
ing. In some way the metabolism of 
the nervous system seemed to become 
a part of the new organism. It 
seemed certain that in a human vam- 
pire the brain could remain conscious 
and alive while the body was intact . 

OW I HAD my clue to the 
supernatural aspects of vam- 
pirism, if not to the astral mecha- 
nism of the thing. While the brain 
lived and remained conscious, it 
could go on developing. It would be, 
in effect, in the trance state perma- 
nently, so that the soul could go and 
come at will. 

“The material or scientific ex- 
planation of the transfer of blood 
from the living to the inanimate ma- 
terial form of the vampire is probably 
beyond the ability of present science 
to fathom. Yet, in psychic phenomena 
we have teleportation as a well 
authenticated phenomena. The spirit 
of the vampire, freed of its mortal 
distractions and faced with the nec- 
essity of supplying the nourishment 
for its physical form with the in- 
struments of the spirit alone, un- 
doubtedly solves that problem and 
carries on the practice of draining 
the life blood from living mortals. 

“Naturally, since all tissue in the 
body of the vampire becomes inactive 
and sealed against decay by the pre- 
servative waste products of the blood 
cells infected with the virus, food 
that has to be digested is out of the 
question. Also by the same token, it 
probably takes very little actual 
nour shment to keep the vampire go- 
ing. A pint of blood now and then 
to supply added vitality to the blood 
stream which now circulates by the 
active movement of the individual 
cells rather than by the pumping of 
the heart, and perhaps a little mois- 
ture unless the body is placed 
where evaporation cannot take place. 


“Finally the study was completed 
short of actual experiment on peo- 
ple which we naturally could not 
bring ourselves to do. 

“We dared not publish our results. 
Yet we felt that the knowledge we 
had gained might someday prove in- 
valuable to the human race. So we 
made three vials of the virus fluid 
and sealed them safely. Also we made 
three copies of the report on the ex- 
periments on parchment bond paper 
and placed a copy with each of the 
vials. One we sent to the Vatican. 
The second we sent to the President, 
and the third we sent to the Ameri- 
can Medical Association. 

“Perhaps we did wrong. If one 
of those vials and reports got into 
the wrong hands, — the hands of one 
who desired immortality in the flesh 
at any price ; it could very well mean 
the return of the vampirism that 
flourished in the dark ages. That 
would be an awful thing, and our 
materialistic civilization would be an . 
easy prey for vampirism since it has 
come by modern tradition to consider 
all such things impossible and the 
product of deranged minds.” 

Dr. Schwick shook his head dole- 
fully. 

“Yes,” he said. “The more I think 
of it the more I believe we should 
have destroyed every trace of those 
experiments and kept the thing 
quiet.” 

He sighed and reached down be- 
side his chair for the apple cider 
jug and refilled his glass. 

Ten white faces watched him si- 
lently. He looked at those faces and 
was reassured as to the safety of the 
secret he had just told them. NONE 
OF THEM BELIEVED HIM. And 
in his heart he hoped that those vials 
and accompanying reports had been 
destroyed by their recipients because 
they refused to believe too. But he 
wasn't sure. % 





By 

fiUY AIICISETTE 

Heath had been decreed lor all beings 
on the Earth. Thus the Yaru came to carry 
out the orders. But man refused to die . . . 



C OMMANDER Thai Odan of 
the Varu Extermination fleet 
gestured something of weari- 
ness at the faces that peered out at 
him from the facets of the communi- 
grid. “You all know what to do. 
We Ve done this so many times be- 
fore Only this need I s^ry — let 

none of the Earthlings escape.” 

The heads framed in the facets 
nodded. There was a flurry of arms 
raised in salute. Then the images 
moved out of focus, and Thai Odan 
flicked off the communi-grid. 


Thai Odan drew a deep breath. He 
stared into a far distance, and what- 
ever he saw there brought a burn of 
mingled relief, pain, and triumph 
into his deep-set, yellow eyes. There 
was not a little pain. 

Let none escape . . . 

Thai Odan shook his head slowly. 
It was not to his liking — but he had 
his orders. He was a soldier who had 
been trained, and well, to obey or- 
ders. 

Turning to the inter-ship commu- 
nicator, Thai Odan signalled the 




» 


• • ... 



laa*#**"*"* 


108 














J. 




control room. 

‘‘Bring the ship over the scene of 
operations, and hold it there.” 

“Aye, sir,” the voice of the flight 
officer answered. 

The hum of the .propulsion en- 
gines deepened, held, then faded. 
Thai Odan moved to a viewport and 
looked out. His vessel was hovering 


motionless high above the others. As 
commander of the extermination 
fleet, Thai Odan was not partici- 
pating in what was taking place 
down there. He was rather thankful 
for this. 

Thai Odan looked down. He didn’t 
actually want to look, but his eyes 
were drawn down by a curious fasci- 



The great ship loosed terrible 


rays of destructive force, and the village was annihilated 


109 






/ 











• » t 









110 


AMAZING STORIES 


nation. This was a momentous occa- 
sion, and was not to be missed, for 
its like would never be seen again. 

The ships of the Varu, looking 
strangely like spheres cut through 
the center by a disc, were swooping 
and darting about something down 
there on the ground. It was almost 
unrecognizable now, but Thai Odan 
knew that but moments ago it had 
been a village of Earthlings, a clever- 
ly camouflaged collection of small, 
wooden huts. The terrible K7 an- 
nihilation beams of the fleet were 
blasting the village and its occu- 
pants to atoms. 

The last remnant of the race which 
had once populated the planet Earth 
so thickly was being exterminated. 

It was this knowledge that held 
Thai Odan’s eyes intent and awed 
on the scene below. The last of a 
mighty race being wiped from the 
face of the planet that had spawned 

them A last handful being sent 

to join the millions and millions 
that had already gone to that far-off 

land of the dead. 

One pitiful village — an easy tar- 
get for the annihilation beams of the 
Varu. And the work of the beams 
was almost done. On all the planet 
there were no other villages, for 
these and the mighty cities which 
had preceded them had already met 
the fate of the village below. The 
last trace of the being called Man 
and his handiwork— obliterated. 

Earth, now, for the Varu. Earth, 
with its green fields, tossing seas, 
and its bright-blue sky strewn with 
clouds. 

Thai Odan looked away. The work 
of the beams was done. 

I N THE bright-blue sky that was 
theirs now, the Varu ships cruised 
slowly, searching. Their beams 
probed the shadows in the forest be- 


low, raked the fields that spread 
away on either side, and rooted 
among the tumbled rocks and boul- 
ders that littered the slopes of the 
hills that had stopped the advance 
of the forest. Then, one by one, they 
settled to the surface they had 
ravaged. 

Again Thai Odan signalled the con- 
trol room, this time giving the order 
to land. He sighed. No, none had es- 
caped. . . . 

It was over. His job was done. 

The Council would be pleased. 
They would probably hold a special 
session and decorate him for his ser- 
vice. There would be long-winded 
speeches by each of the Superiors 
in turn — all the trimmings. And when 
it was all over, they would forget 
him and what he had done in the 
work that lay ahead. 

But Thai Odan knew he would not 
forget. In the long nights of the 
years ahead he would always remem- 
ber. For he was a soldier, and to- 
ward the end this had not been war 
but murder on a cosmic scale. With 
their vast cities destroyed, their 
armies wiped out, all traces of or- 
ganization gone, the Earthlings had 
been a conquered people. But the 
Council had not been satisfied. They 
had wanted complete exterminaiton 
of this race whose planet they had 
chosen for their new home. And 
Thai Oden had had to obey orders. 
But it was not the kind of battle 
a soldier likes to fight. 

Only the Council would be pleased, 
and all the others who had hated 
and feared the Earthlings as deeply 
as the Council had. Thai Odan had 
feared the Earthlings, too, but he had 
respected them. He knew the basis 
of the fear and hate which the Varu 
had for Earthlings— a disturbing 
sense of physical inferiority. For the 
Varu were pygmies in comparison to 


OMEGA 


- Ill 


the race they had conquered and de- 
stroyed. Little more than four feet 
tall and slender in proportion, they 
had appeared insignificant beside 
Earthlings. They had resented this 
intensely and bitterly, and had used 
every trick of their highly advanced 
science to remove a standard of phy- 
sique that humbled them. 

But this was not the only reason. 
The Earthlings were highly intelli- 
gent, too. Experience had taught 
Thai Odan the unbelievable extent of 
their cunning and resourcefulness. 
Keen and clever — and very, very 
deadly fighters. No — no Varu would 
ever have been able to pass the night 
hours in comfort while Earthlings 
still lived. Thai Odan often won- 
dered what the outcome would have 
been had the Varu arrived fifty or 
a hundred years later. He thought 
he knew — and shuddered with the 
knowledge. 

For it was only after ten years of 
terrible, terrible fighting that the 
last camouflaged village of Earth- 
lings had fallen. Oh, the Varu had 
suffered! 

But it was all over now. This 
planet was the home of the Varu. 

There was a slight thump as the 
ship landed. Thai Odan shook him- 
self slightly and made his way to an 
exit hatch. He stepped out to the 
ground, wrinkling his nose flaps 
against the acrid odor of burning 
vegetation. His captains joined him, 
saluting as they approached. 

“It is done?” Thai Odan asked 
quietly. 

Sard Mil elected to reply for the 
group. 

“Not quite yet, Commander. We 
have men scouring the district to 
mop up any possible survivors. But 
none have been found as yet, and it 
seems certain that none of the Mon- 
sters escaped our surprise air at- 


track. Is was too carefully planned.” 

T^HAL ODAN nodded. His tiny 

mouth tightened the faintest bit. 
He had never liked to hear the 
Earthlings called monsters. No good 
soldier thus depreciates an enemy he 
respects. And it was almost as if the 
Varu admitted their feeling of infe- 
riority, by using the epithet to com- 
pensate for it. Ten years, he decided, 
can do a lot to distort the stand- 
ards of a race. 

Feeling strangely irritated, Thai 
Odan turned back to his ship. He 
stopped. 

A cry was vibrating on the air. 
Winging toward the group about 
Thai O dan’s vessel came a soldier. 
Some kind of excitement had made 
him use his degravity floats far above 
the minimum safety limit. 

The soldier skidded to a stop, wav- 
ing his arms to hold his balance. His 
eyes were distended with the emotion 
that had been in his shout. 

“We found one of them, sir — one 
of the Monsters!” the soldier gasped, 
saluting Thai Odan hurriedly. 

“What!” 

Thai Odan’s eyes narrowed swift- 
ly against the undue loudness of his 
voice. He felt slightly ashamed. But 
at that moment the thought had 
rushed into his mind that he could 
see what was undoubtedly the last 
of the Earthlings before — 

“Has it been harmed?” he demand- 
ed quickly. 

“No, sir. It’s a small one. A child.” 

“Lead us there.” Thai Odan 
touched a button on the strap that 
held his degravity floats, lifted into 
the air, and soared with a speed that 
quickened the feel of the gentle 
breeze on his face. His mind was 
working rapidly. 

The gleaming hulls of the ships 
dropped from sight behind the rise 
of the hills. Then the leading figure 


112 


AMAZING STORIES 


ahead began descending. Thai Odan 
cut his power slowly to lessen the 
impact of his contact with the 
ground; for he was old. He stumbled, 
regained his feet and balance, and 
looked around. 

The soldier was pointing. Thai 
Odan’s pulse quickened. 

A short distance away was a cu- 
rious little shelter, built of a half- 
ring of stone and covered with 
branches and leaves. In the shadows 
something moved. 

The captains had drawn their hand 
blasters and were watching that 
shelter with a taut wariness, their 
nose flaps opening and closing rapid- 
ly. Thai Odan drew no weapon. He 
stepped forward eagerly, peered into 
the shadows made by the crude roof. 

Within, as the soldier had said, 
was a Monster, but to Thai Odan, an 
Earthling — the last of its kind. It 
was small, very young. That was ap- 
parent. It made bubbly throat sounds, 
and waved arms that were clumsily 
thick according to Varu standards. 
Bright eyes, filled with laughter and 
innocence, met Thai Odan’s. 

Thus it was that the Varu came 
upon Omega. 

OF THE captains turned to 
the soldier who had made the 
discovery. 

“Why didn’t you shoot the thing 
when you first found it?” 

The soldier shifted uncomfortably 
beneath the other’s stern gaze. 

“This — this was so strange, sir. The 
child and the shelter so far from 

the village There was something 

about it I couldn’t understand. Since 
it was only a child and the only 
Monster we had found, I thought 
that it would be best to seek the 
advice of my superiors before I took 
any action of my own.” 

“I think I understand,” Thai Odan 


said softly, marking the face of the 
man indelibly in his mind. Here, he 
realized, was another who thought as 
he did. “What you did was quite 
right.” 

Sard Mil, the agressive, self-elect- 
ed spokesman for the group, stepped 

forward. His face was hard. 

% 

“Our advice is this — kill the Mon- 
ster and have done with it!” 

The others growled assent, their 
eyes fixed distastefully upon the 
shelter. As though taking his initia- 
tive from the others, Sard Mil 
stepped toward it, his hand blaster 
raising. 

“Stop!” Thai Odan’s voice was like 
the snap of a whip and his eyes were 
yellow slits of fury. “You have not 
consulted me, Sard Mil. One of these 
days you will go too far with your 
impetuousness.” Then his tones soft- 
ened. “This is the last Earthling on 
all the planet — the last relic of a 
race. This is the final spark of a 
people. Are your minds too shallow 
to understand and appreciate this?” 
He was speaking to all of them. 
“The final spark of a ‘race. ... It is 
too momentous a thing for us to take 
it upon ourselves to extinguish it. We 
shall take the child before the Coun- 
cil.” 

“We shall be wasting time,” Sard 
Mil muttered sullenly. “The Coun- 
cil will not hesitate to decree the 
Monster’s death.” 

“Perhaps,” Thai Odan breathed, 
though he knew the other was right. 
But — the final spark. Thai Odan did 
not want the extinguishing of it on 
his hands. 

“Make a sling,” he ordered. “Carry 
the child to the ships.” He watched 
in silence while a crude support was 
made of the branches which covered 
the tiny shelter. There was grim 
amusement in hi3 eyes as he saw that 
it took two Varu to lift the little 


OMEGA 


113 


Earthling, and that they did it as 
gingerly and as warily as though 
they lifted high explosive. 

They were ready. Thai Odan 
touched the activator of his degra- 
vity floats and lifted into the air. His 
lips were curved into a small smile 
of satisfaction as he soared back to 
his ship. 

Perhaps — perhaps, now, in the twi- 
light years before him, he would 
find a little rest. 

*t*HE GREAT Council Hall of the 
Varu was filled with a strange 
noise. The last Earthling was hun- 
gry, and was announcing this fact 
with a loud voice and lusty lungs. 

The Superiors of the Council were 
extremely annoyed. Their eyes kept 
moving in irritation from Thai Odan 
to the small figure surrounded by a 
dozen Council guards. Thai Odan 
was explaining the discovery and the 
presence alive of the last Earthling. 
The representatives of the various 
people’s groups were straining for- 
ward in their seats to catch the fleet 
commander’s concluding words. 

Thai Odan was breathless from the 
effort required to make himself heard 
above the clamor of the last Earth- 
ling. But his face was impassive. 

“ . . . And so I deemed it wise to 
bring the child before the Council 
and let them make the decision. As 
the last member of its race, I felt 
that the decision of its death was 
too momentous for me to make 
alone.” 

The spokesman for the Superiors 
rose. 

“Commander Thai Odan, whatever 
you may have said, this is but an- 
other evidence of your undue squeam- 
ishness with regard to the extermina- 
tion of those monsters called Earth- 
lings. We well recall that it was 
you who advocated the keeping of 
the last tribe of Earthlings on a res- 


ervation instead of completely exter- 
minating them. At the last session of 
the Council, complete extermination 
of this last tribe to be discovered was 
voted upon, and your orders for the 
expedition against them were to that 
effect. In bringing this Earthling 
here, you have acted contrary to the 
wishes of the Council.” 

Thai Odan’s lips were closed tight- 
ly against the anger that raged with- 
in him. He was a soldier — and a sol- 
dier fights only until the battle is 
won. Extermination is for savages 
and cowards. 

“However,” the spokesman contin- 
ued, “we, the Superiors of ..the 
Council, recognize the climactic na- 
ture of the decision, and your short- 
coming is alleviated somewhat be- 
cause of this. In view of your age, 
rank, and service, no action will be 
taken against you. You are dis- 
missed.” 

Thai Odan smiled bitterly, bowed, 
and left rostrum and the Council 
Hall. He was in disgrace, of course. 
There would be no speeches in his 
honor now, no decorations. But he 
would not miss them. The only com- 
fort in his twilight years was that he 
had been spared the making of a 
blow which would have spelled finis 

to a race. 

Back in the Council Hall, the 
spokesman for the Superiors was 
asking, “What is the disposition of 
the Representatives?” 

The spokesman for the various 
groups stepped forward. Their voices 
rose in unison. 

“Death !” 

And then there was an amazed si- 
lence. For one group had not ren- 
dered a decision. 

The representatives of the Scien- 
tists had risen to their feet— an action 
of protest. Their spokesman moved 
quickly to the rostrum. 


114 


AMAZING STORIES 


“Superiors and Representatives of 
the Counil, we, the representatives of 
of the Scientists, do protest commit- 
ting this last member of the Earth- 
ling race to death.” 

The spokesman for the Superiors 
was staring. 

“On what grounds?” 

HPHE SPOKESMAN for the Scien- 
A tists was an elderly Varu, wise 
in the tactics of the Council Hall. He 
turned to the representatives of the 
various people’s groups, spreading his 
hands in appeal. For he knew that 
it was through these that the deci- 
sions of the Superiors were in- 
fluenced. His voice was low and pur- 
suasive. 

“Men of the Varu, you cannot 
question the fact that you owe much 
to us scientists. Through our re- 
searches, through our experiments, 
we bring you things to make your 
lives comfortable and content. With 
our serums and healing rays, we save 
your loved ones from dread diseases. 
With our inventions and discoveries, 
we lessen your toil and increase 
you knowledge of Nature, making 
you her masters. When our home 
planet was confronted with collision 
with a wandering star, it was we who 
made possible interstellar travel and 
saved the race from doom. And it 
was we who made possible the 
weapons which enabled you to take 
this world for your new home. 

“Forever on we scientists go, work- 
ing tirelessly for the good of the 
race. Little do we ever ask in return. 

“This Earthling here is the last of 
its kind — and all the more valuable 
because it is alive. Heretofore, we 
have had only dead and maimed 
Earthlings for our studies. They 
were worthless for certain details 
we wished to know. This Earthling, 
when it has grown sufficiently, could 
supply the precious data we lack. 


“Any discoveries we make would 
be for the further good of the race. 
This is our first thought, our first 
desire. Seldom are we scientists re- 
warded, and seldom do we ask to be. 
All we ask now is that you allow 
this Earthling to live so that we mav 
study it. It is very young and can 
cause no harm. Every precaution on 
our part will be taken to see that it 
does not become a cause for worry. 

“Let us have this last Earthling to 
study. Dead, it can never be of any 
good. Alive, it will be of inestimable 
value. 

“I, the spokesman for the Scien- 
tists, humbly await your verdict.” 

He stepped from the rostrum and 
joined his fellows, who glanced at 
him approvingly. The groups drew 
within each other for discussion of 
the case. The great council hall 
echoed to the tumult of arguing 
voices. 

On the floor, surrounded by tir- 
ing guards, the last Earthling tossed 
in restless slumber. 

When the sun had begun to edge 
from view beyond the western hori- 
zon, and its dimming rays made a 
rosy glory of the colored windows 
of the council hall, the Representa- 
tives tendered to their spokesmen 
their final decisions. These gathered 
into two opposing groups of Fors 
and Againsts. 

The Representatives of the Scien- 
tists smiled in quiet triumph. There 
was a majority of Fors. 

The last Earthling was theirs for 
study. 

But, as usual, the Superiors of the 
Council had the last word in the 
matter. Their spokesman arose, 
frowning. 

“We, the Superiors of the Council, 
do not wholly approve of the ver- 
dict which has just been reached. But 
since a majority vote has granted 


OMEGA 


115 


life to the last of the Monsters, we 
will let it stand as is — with, how- 
ever, this amendment: 

“The last of the Monsters shall 
be in the care of the Scientists until 
he has reached manhood. Up to that 
time, they are to be responsible for 
him and his actions. When he has 
reached manhood, he shall be put to 
death and his body preserved in the 
Museum of the Conquest for the 
view of future generations as the 
last specimen of his race. 

“The Council is adjourned.” 

TT WAS TO Jennak Pon, the Co- 

ordinator of the Scientists, that 
much of the responsibility for the 
last Earthling fell; for he was the 
head of his group, and as such was 
answerable for many of their faults. 
But, excited as is any true scientist 
before whom has opened up a whole 
vista of new and fascinating prob- 
lems, he gave little or no thought to 
worry. After all, a child is a child, 
no matter to what race it belongs. 
And nothing that can be foreseen is 
to be feared from a child. 

Jennak Pon was a brilliant and 
capable Varu, else he would never 
have attained the leadership of his 
group. Through his duties were 
seemingly endless, he kept his men 
functioning with the smoothness and 
regularity of a precision machine. He 
knew well how to rekindle hope and 
determination from the ashes of dis- 
couragement and despair. He was just 
past middle age, and his body had a 
rounded plumpness which, according 
to Varu physical standards, was 
called fat. 

It was with great enthusiasm that 
Jennak Pon plunged into the task 
of beginning the series of studies 
which were to revolve about the last • 
Earthling. An entire wing of the 
Central Laboratory was set aside and 
fitted up for the accomodations and 


care of the child. And, through trial 
and error experiments, he and his 
men learned to feed it. The first 
crude successes were refined and at 
last a diet was reached which was of 
eminent satisfaction in its results. 

Gazing down at the last Earthling 
one day, Jennak Pon settled the next 
of the problems. 

“You need a name,” he told the 
child. “Henceforth, you shall be 
called Omega. It is a highly appro- 
priate name, for not only is it in 
one of your own .languages, but it 
also means ‘the last*. And the last 
you are — the last of your kind.” 

Lying upon the soft materials of 
his enclosure, Omega gurgled and 
waved his limbs. His eyes were 
bright, as though with acknowledge- 
ment. 

HpHE EARTH revolved about the 
Sun as it had done in the aeons 
of yore. And the years passed, and 
Omega grew. 

His growing was a swift and ro- 
bust thing. At the age of eight he 
was as tall as the Varu and as broad 
as the plump Jennak Pon himself. 
He was a handsome child, with crisp, 
chestnut hair and serious, level gray 
eyes. He smiled little, and his speech 
was slow and grave. 

He v/as older than his years, aston- 
ishingly mature in thought and ac- 
tion. For he had never known play 
in the juvenile activity sense of the 
word, had never known laughter with 
companions of his own age or kind. 
His world was a solemn and unevent- 
ful one, completely lacking in those 
things which make up the normal 
world of a child. His was a world 
bounded by severe, glistening labo- 
ratories and staid Varu scientists. 

Occasionally, however, and in con- 
nection with his studies, Jennak Pon 
would take him on air-ship flights 
far from the laboratories and the 


116 


AMAZING STORIES 




city. There, in that outside world 
where there were forests and moun- 
tains and plains, they would delve 
into geological formations and gath- 
er mineral, plant, and animal speci- 
mens. Omega took a keen delight in 
these trips. He loved the vastness 
and quiet of the wilderness, revelled 
in the sun and wind. Jennak Pon en- 
joyed them, too. For they were some- 
thing in the nature of vacation trips 
for him. 

And, sometimes, there would be 
visits to the city. Omega had liked 
them at first, but now they were 
something that he avoided. With the 
growth in his mentality, the visits to 
the city only served the deepen the 
sense of his own strangeness. For he 
was already aware that he was radi- 
cally different from the people with 
whom he was daily thrown in con- 
tact. 

He could not explain this differ- 
ence. Even others felt it. On his 
visits to the city, rare now, people 
would stare at him and point at him 
and draw into groups and discuss 
him in lowered voices. And the chil- 
dren, so queer and so much smaller 
than himself, would follow him and 
shrill in their thin voices, “The 
Monster! The Monster!” 

It all hurt, hurt so very badly. Es- 
pecially the taunts of the children. 
At those times a red mist would 
film his vision, and only Jennak 
Pon’s restraining hand on his arm 
prevented him from tearing into the 
midst of the tiny demons and smash- 
ing them to silence. 

He had already guessed that his 
differentness had something to do 
with his confinement to the labora- 
tories. He knew what the laboratories 
were and the purposes they served, 
and he knew that they were not the 
kind of homes that other people had. 
And there were the tests which 


groups of scientists periodically 
made upon him. He had enjoyed the 
tests at first, looking upon them as 
something in the nature of games. It 
had been great fun to hurriedly fit 
little blocks together into geometric 
figures before a light flashed, and 
guess the numbers on cards. There 
were many other kinds of tests, and 
there were some that he did not like. 
But all had now assumed a deep sig- 
nificance, and his liking for them had 
gone. It was through force of habit 
that he went through all the motions. 

T ONELINESS was heavy upon 
him. He had no companions with 
whom he could talk or play. The 
Varu children feared him as deeply 
as he disliked them. And at times 
his desire for friends like himself 
became so strong that it reached 
actual physical discomfort. Jennak 
Pon was a companion of sorts. That 
is, when he wasn’t so very busy. 

Often Omega wondered why he 
never saw others like himself. Why 
was he so unique? Were there 
others like him in the world? He 
asked Jennak Pon once, but the an- 
swer he received had been curiously 
evasive. 

There was evasion everywhere 
where he was concerned. He felt as 
if something were constantly being 
hidden from him. And this served to 
increase the depth of his loneliness. 

One of the few comforts in his 
otherwise barren existence was his 
studies. In these he absorbed himself 
with an intensity which was a sub- 
conscious effort to compensate for 
his lack of playmates. His penetra- 
tion into many fields of knowledge 
had reached an amazing degree; for 
there was in his heredity that rare 
thing called genius. Able to read and 
understand at four, he had, by this 
time, the ability to criticize any one 
of the abtruse scientific treatises in 


OMEGA 


117 


the laboratory libraries. 

His main interest was the physical 
sciences, particularly those of chem- 
istry, physics, and mathematics. 
There was little in Varu history to 
interest him — at least that much of 
their history which he was allowed 
to read. And Varu literary works 
simply did not find a responsive 

chord within him. 

His mind, with its growing brilli- 
ance, had turned to the physical sci- 
ences. In these there were worlds 
within worlds, knowledge without 
end. Out of these things could be 
built, fascinating things, like the 
bright and glittering things which 
the Varu scientists built in their 
laboratories. 

Omega studied intensely and 
fiercely, his mind absorbing like a 
sponge that great amount of scienti- 
fic knowledge which the Varu had 
amassed. And something like an in- 
stinctive cunning made him conceal 
his growing intelligence from the 
Varu — even from the hurried and 
kindly Jennak Pon, his only friend. 

For a formless something was 
growing within him — something that 
was keeping insidious pace with his 
growth in years and knowledge. In- 
definite and vague, as yet, there were 
times when it almost bordered on 
actual realization. At those times he 
would look up sharply from what- 
ever he was doing, and stare into 
space, as though in answer to a tiny 
voice that was calling from some- 
where far, far down within him. And 
chill winds would prickle his skin, 
as though he were remembering. . . 

AT SIXTEEN that something 
** which had been growing within 
him through the years finally took 
shape. It coalesced, hardened, into a 
terrible, all-consuming hate for the 
Varu. 

Omega never tried to view this 


hate objectively and analyze it, for 
it had always been there. It was 
natural. It had been fused into his 
being, grown with him, until it had 
become a part of him no more to be 
explained than the nose on his face. 

Other things came with the hate, 
strange, nebulous knowledge. In the 
night hours, when he lay sleepless, 
gazing into the darkness and think- 
ing, thinking, memories would swirl 
dimly to his mind. Words in another 
tongue, caressing, faces that smiled 
down at him — 

And something else. 

Something that was not a child 
memory pulled to the surface by his 
powerful mind. Something that was 
very real and very urgent. 

He had a mission here, a duty to 
fulfill. He had a task to do, and 
everything else was to be subordinat- 
ed to the doing of it. 

He had to destroy the Varu— ex- 
terminate them as utterly and as 
ruthlessly as they had earlier exter- 
minated his people. 

And in the night hours, when he 
lay sleepless, staring into the dark- 
ness and thinking, thinking, he would 
wonder how he knew that he had 
ever had any people other than the 
Varu among whom he had lived and 
grown. How had he ever known that 
the Varu had destroyed these people 
of his? 

He couldn’t explain. The know- 
ledge was there, and with it the task 
of retaliation. 

The desire for information about 
his people was a poignant desire in 
his heart and mind. He felt that he 
could never rest until he knew all 
that there was to know about them. 
He sought for sources of informa- 
tion. And, bit by bit, he learned. 

Omega had kept his intelligence 
carefully hidden through the years. 
Never had he said or done anything 


118 


AMAZING STORIES 


which might have given the Varu 
cause for worry or fear. They toler- 
ated him with a familiar contempt, 
and allowed him a quite free run of 
the laboratories. For, with nothing 
to keep them glowing, thoughts of 
danger die with the passing of time. 

Thus it was that he had been able 
to leave his room night after night, 
and, stealing to the libraries, peruse 
there by stealth certain records and 
documents that he would not have 
otherwise been permitted to read. 
The records were kept in separate, 
locked rooms, but his clever hands, 
aided by slender instruments stolen 
from the laboratories, gained him en- 
trance. It was a slow and dangerous 
business, but with his mind to fill 
out the gaps, it wasn’t long until he 
had a complete picture of his people 
and what had happened to them. 

And his hate was all the more cold 
and deadly for the knowledge. 

r T r ALL AND strong, his people had 
been, and though they had their 
faults, brave withal and aspiring. 
They had covered all of the inhabit- 
able earth, and had been or many dif- 
ferent kinds — white men, black men, 
yellow men and red. They had all 
lived together in a highly integrated 
society. Their cities had reared tall- 
er and broader even than that at the 
Varu were building now, and they 
had had vessels which traveled 
through the air, on and beneath the 
water, and on the land. Their sci- 
ence had > progressed to the point 
where they had been making the first 
feeble attempts to reach the planets. 

Then the Varu had come. From out 
of space the Varu had come, in their 
great interstellar arks. Weary and 
heart-sick from long, long years of 
searching for an inhabitable planet. 
Into the solar system they had come 
— and seen the planet which the be- 
ings who peopled it called *terth. 


Earth had met the every qualifi- 
cation of the Varu. They had want- 
ed it for their new home, and the 
fact that it was already peopled did 
not deter them from taking it, for 
they were tired of seeking and cau- 
tious investigations had assured them 
that the science of this other race 
was inferior to their own. Thus, con- 
fident and greedy, they had waged 
a war of conquest, striking suddenly 
from out of the blue sky upon their 
unsuspecting victims. 

But it had not been as easy as they 
expected. The war of conquest had 
dragged out for ten, long years, and 
the Earthlings had fought to the last. 
They had fought with a cunning, 
courage, and tenacity which appalled 
the Varu. And when the war of con- 
quest was technically finished, the 
fear of the Varu had become so vast 
and intense that they could let no 
Earthlings live to insure their peace 
of mind. Extermination — with a 
mercilessness and vindictiveness born 
of their cringing, craven souls and 
their flayed egos. 

In Omega’s mind was the convic- 
tion that his people had been the 
real victors. They may have lost in 
a war of sciences — but they had 
emerged triumphant in one of cour- 
age. 

Now he knew all that he needed 
to know. The next step was ven- 
geance. That inexplicable command 
which was urging him on to wipe 
out the Varu had an answering de- 
sire in his own mind. 

Omega began to plan. He took a 
certain scientific principle as his 
foundation and upon it built a frame- 
work of mathematics. The rest of 
the deadly structure had to be com- 
pleted through experiments and re- 
search. He plunged into the work 
feverishly, though with an outward 
casualness meant to allay any sus- 
picions or curiosity which might 


OMEGA 


119 


arise among the Varu scientists. 

W HEN OMEGA reached twenty, 
the weapon was almost com- 
pleted. Several small parts, adjust- 
ments, a final test, and it would be 
ready to do the duty for which it 
had been built. 

Four years filled with deadly dan- 
ger lay behind him — a danger that 
would never cease until the last Varu 
was gone. Always, while he worked, 
he had had to keep part of his mind 
alert for any changes in attitude of 
those around him. It had been a terri- 
fic nervous and mental strain. And 
besides, there had been disappoint- 
ments, heart-breaking failures. 

The Varu had wondered, of 
course. And they had asked ques- 
tions. Omega had explained that the 
thing he was building was a device 
to control the weather through at- 
mospheric vibrations. He had gone 
on building his weapon beneath the 
noses of the. Varu, laughing at them 
just as they laughed at him. 

For the Varu did not know the 
incredible extent of Omega s intelli- 
gence. He had kept it carefully hid- 
den behind a semblance of quiet dull- 
ness, and had never once betrayed 
himself. He had succeeded so well 
that he and his device were the butt 
of many jokes about the laboratories. 

Omega found a grim humor in this. 
He had no sympathy in him. Only 
enemies surrounded him, and their 
petty pointed barbs were dulled 
against the armor of his hate. The 
few friends he had had were gone 
now with the tide of years. The last 
to go was the genial and busy Jen- 
nak Pon. An accident in one of the 
laboratories had taken him. 

So Omega worked on, putting the 
finishing touches to his weapon and 
looking forward to the day that 
would see the end of the Varu. He 
was so absorbed that he almost for- 


got to keep his constant check upon 
them. It was one bright afternoon 
that he looked up suddenly from his 
work to realize that something was 
wrong. 

The jokes, the teasing jests, had 
ceased. The manner of the scientists 
toward him had become sober, sol- 
emn. 

Every sense flaring instantly with 
alarm, he ceased work. What had 
happened? 

Tense, his thoughts kaleidoscop- 
ing, he investigated. With hidden 
microphones, he eavesdropped upon 
the conversation of the scientists. He 
learned what was the cause of the 

change toward him. 

He had reached manhood. Accord- 
ing to an old Council decree, he was 
soon to be put to death and his body 
placed in the Museum of the Con- 
quest as a specimen. 

His blood throbbing with emergen- 
cy, Omega began preparations to flee 
the laboratories and the city of the 
Varu. He carefully disassembled his 
weapon and packed it for catrying. 
Then he gathered together the tools, 
materials, and equipment he would 
need. To this he added food and 
blankets. 

With the fall and deepening of 
night, he left his room, carrying the 
weapon, and crept to the roof of the 
laboratories. The roof served as a 
landing field for the small air-ships 
of the scientists, and since many of 
them stayed late at the laboratories 
to continue engrossing experiments, 
there always were several ships to 
be found there. 

Omega selected one, and deposited 
his burden within it. Then he re- 
turned to gather the rest of his 

things. 

A S HE WAS returning to the roof 
with the last of his bundles, the 
door of one of the rooms along the 


120 


AMAZING STORIES 


hall opened, and a Varu came out. He 
stared at Omega, then at the bundle. 
His eyes widened and his mouth 
opened to release a shout of alarm. 
But, moving with desperate speed, 
Omega dropped his parcel and leaped 
upon the Varu. His powerful hands 
closed about the slender neck. There 
was a dull snap, loud in the night 
quiet of the laboratories. The Varu 
went limp, his intended warning dy- 
ing with him. 

Omega crouched tensely there in 
the hall, listening to find whether 
the short and deadly scuffle had 
been heard. Finally, assured, that it 
hadn't, he picked up his bundle and 
continued on to the roof. 

He found it difficult to wedge his 
six-foot bulk into the ship, built for 
a much smaller being as it was. But 
he managed to squeeze in and get the 
door shut. The controls were simple. 
A short study, and he had the ship 
in the air and was soaring forever 
away from the laboratories and the 
city. 

He needed a place to work now, as 
well as a shelter from the v/eather. 
He remembered a certain mountain 
region, where, in Jennak Pon's com- 
pany, he had spent many pleasant 
hours. There was a cave there in the 
mountains, a large and airy cave, 
with a clean, sandy floor. The cave 
would be his home until the weapon 
was completed. 

The light of the moon, breaking 
occasionally through gaps in the 
clouds, guided him in his search for 
landmarks. But the search was a dif- 
ficult one, unfamiliar as he was with 
the outside world and the handling 
of the ship. He was exhausted when 
he finally found the cave. 

He had to hide, had to conceal 
every trace of himself completely. 
There would be no rest until this was 
done. 


Awkwardly, but with a confidence 
that had grown through his handling 
of it, he nosed the little Varu air- 
ship into the cave, keeping the pow- 
er on until a farther wall stopped 
his advance. Then he cut the motor, 
and the ship settled to the floor with 
a thud. 

He left the ship and went to the 
mouth of the cave. He looked up into 
the night sky, breathing deeply. The 
clouds had gathered thickly before 
the face of the moon, and it was very 
dark. A cool breeze stirred with a 
kind of restlessness around him, and 
faint and eery came the rustle of the 
leaves of the trees growing up the 
slope. There was no peace in the 
night. It was brooding and ominous, 
alive with frightened whispers, 
filled with a dreadful expectancy. 

Omega stared up into the night 
sky, watching and listening. And 
then that for which he had been wait- 
ing came. 

A fleet of Varu ships. Their flying 
lights were bright motes in the sky. 
For an instant their combined drone 
was loud in his ears, then their lights 
and their noise were gone. They were 
traveling very swiftly. 

The dead Varu scientist in the hall 
had been discovered. The nature of 
his death had indicated only one per- 
son who could have had the strength 
to do that. And that person had been 
gone. The Varu were seeking him 
now, seeking him with all the feral 
hate and determination that they had 
earlier sought his people. 

r^MEGA GAZED after the ships, 
the corners of his lips turned 
down in a smile of grim mockery. 
Sard Mil would be in command, he 
knew. Sard Mil, the Varu who, ac- 
cording to the records, had been 
cheated of the honor of killing him 
by another commander, dead now. 
Sard Mil still wanted that honor, and 


OMEGA 


121 


was hot on what he thought was the 
trail of the last Earthling. 

The Varu, of course, did not know 
of his great intelligence and the 
deadly purpose which had really 
motivated his escape. They thought 
merely that he had somehow discov- 
ered that he was to be put to death, 
and was trying to put as many miles 
between the city and himself as he 
could. They would never have ex- 
pected him to remain as close to the 

city as he actually was. 

They would keep searching until 
they eventually found him. But by 
that time the weapon would be com- 
pleted. 

Omega returned to the ship and 
pulled out his bundles. From one of 
these he produced a slim length of 
metal that he had ground to razor 
sharpness. He ran up the slope to the 
trees, selected several, and began cut- 
ting them down. They were firs and 
pines, soft-wooded, and the tasK of 
cutting them down went rapidly. 
Omega was careful to space his feel- 
ings wide apart, so that no clear area 
would be left to draw suspicion from 
the hunters in the sky. Later he in- 
tended to cut the stumps level with 
the ground and cover them with 
earth and leaves. But there was no 
time for that now. 

One by one, he dragged the felled 
trees to the cave, shoving them down 
into the soft, sandy soil before the 
entrance. When he was done, he had 
achieved a camouflage effect that 
was not unnatural. The trees hiding 
the cave mouth would blend in nice- 
ly with the others growing up the 
slope. 

With a branch, he smoothed out 
his tracks from the soil around the 
cave entrance. Then, assured that 
these first precautions against dis- 
covery would serve, he spread out 
one of the blankets in the interior of 


the cave and fell into an exhausted 
slumber. 

Day merged into day, night into 
night, and Omega, working frantical- 
ly upon his weapon in his hideout, 
lost all sense of the passing of time. 
He grew thin and haggard, and a 
wild gleam deepened in his eyes. 

He lived like a hunted animal there 
in the cave. He had planted trees 
more thickly about the entrance, and 
the interior was filled perpetually 
with a solemn gloom, so that it was 
only by the glow of a tiny atom lamp 
that he could see to work upon the 
more delicate and intricate details of 
his weapon. 

The Varu still sought him. Daily 
their ships whined past in the sky, 
seeking, seeking, with a growing 
frenzy and frustration. 

It was only at night that he dared 
leave the cave to get water and food. 
And to secure the latter he took his 
most dangerous risks, for he was 
forced to forage far from the cave. 
He subsisted upon berries, nuts, and 
several varieties of plants which he 
had found to be edible by cautious 
experimentation. Occasionally he 
brought down small animals with a 
crude hand blaster that he had fash- 
ioned from an extra atom lamp. 

Omega worked, the weapon rush- 
ing to completion under his flying 
hands. And all the while that strange 
mental command drove him on and 
on like a goad. Rest was only periods 
of oblivion into which he dropped 
while laboring, the tools still in his 
hands. 

His hate was an impatience that 
would know no rest until the last 
Varu was gone. The inexplicable will 
which drove him on to the same goal 
was a burning urgency. And the 
ships in the sky that whined in their 
search made his mind scream for 
haste, haste. 


122 


AMAZING STORIES 


Omega gritted his teeth and 
worked on. Day merged into day, 
night into night. And then — 

AND THEN, one evening when 
** the moon was a silver sphere 
edging above the far horizon, the 
weapon was finished at last. The 
knowledge that his duty was soon 
now to be fulfilled was like an ex- 
hiliarating drug to Omega. His eyes 
flashed in his lined, pale face. 

But even now there could be no 
rest for his wracked body, for the 
ships of the Varu had become more 
concentrated in the region of the 
cave of late, and it was ominously 
certain that they had found some 
clue that had put them hot on his 
trail. A footprint in mud, a tree 
seared accidently by the hand 
blaster — 

Haste, haste. Power, now, for the 
weapon that was to bring death to 
the Varu. He removed the small but 
enormously powerful atom motor 
which ran the propelling mechanism 
of the air-ship he had hidden in the 
cave. To this he connected his 
weapon. Then — he was ready. 

But he hesitated. Would it work? 
What if there were some flaw in 
the hastily-built mechanism of the 
weapon? The principle was correct. 
And so were the formulas. Of these 
latter he was certain, for he had 
checked and rechecked them to the 
point where they ran like a madden- 
ing song through his head. But it 
is difficult to express in concrete ma- 
terials the sheer, flawless abstract 
beauty of mathematics. 

Almost he was afraid to continue. 
He could not fail in his duty to his 
vanished race, that of wiping out 
their murderers. But there was no 
time to remove the uncertainties 
which tortured him. Varu hunters 
were whining hungrily in the sky, 


coming closer, closer. There was no 
time — 

Omega’s lips tightened to a pale 
line. He strode abruptly to the mouth 
of the cave and hurled the conceal- 
ing trees aside. Moonlight streamed 
in with a rush. He picked up the 
gleaming, cubical shape of his weap- 
on, from which cables trailed to the 
atom motor, and strode out into the 
moonlight and the breeze. 

Cradling the deadly thing, he 
looked up into the sky. Bright motes 
were whining up there, seeking, seek- 
ing, with a hunger that had grown 
more intense. He waited until they 
saw him standing there in the moon- 
light. The motes danced excitedly, 
gathered together, then they came 
down. They came down like starved 
things pouncing, their beams stab- 
bing out like eager tongues. 

Omega lifted the weapon. His eyes 
were glittering and his lips were 
twisted in a soundless snarl. He 
touched switches, pointed the two 
cones in the front at the downward 
hurtling vessels. A chill tingling en- 
veloped his body. 

Like ripples spreading upon the 
surface of a pool, the vibrations 
leaped out from the cones. The vibra- 
tions would shatter the infinitely 
complex and delicate crystalline 
structures that were the brains of the 
Varu. 

The vibrations were leaping out 
from the cones, and Omega’s body 
was tingling. In the sky the beams 
flickered out, simultaneously, as 
though a button had been pressed to 
extinguish them. And because there 
was nothing to cut their power, the 
ships hurtled on. Past Omega and 
the cave they went, unguided hulks 
of metal. Their crashing back in the 
mountains was a thing that shook 
the ground and thundered upon the 
air. 


O MEGA TURNED, then, and 
pointed the cones in the direction 
of the city. He had remained near 
the city so that his deadly work 
would be all the more thorough. 

He kept the cones pointed in the 
direction of the city until the weight 
of the weapon became unbearable. 
The moon peered down, an all-seeing 
eye, unmoved. There was only one 
city of the Varu on all the Earth. 
There hadn't been enough Varu to 
make others worth while. So the 
work of the weapon was thorough. 

At last Omega gave in to the 
screaming exhaustion of his body 
and sank down to the ground. The 
terrific nervous strain and the many, 
many sleepless days and nights piled 
upon him with a rush. His form 
shook, as though moved by some- 
thing that was a commingling of a 
vast triumph and relief. Then he 
slept, bathed in the moon's silver 
illumination. 

His duty was fulfilled. Sj 

U silver speck glinted in the sun- 
light. It was high in the sky, travel- 
ing slowly. Occasionally it would de- 
scend with a sudden swiftness, like 
a heart quickened with hope. Then 
it would rise again, slowly and weari- 
ly, and continue onward. 

It was a Varu air-ship that looked 
strangely like a sphere cut through 
the center by a disc. Omega sat at the 
controls. 

For days now he had been roaming 
the Earth, seeking for something he 
knew he would never find. But he still 
sought, as though he could not be con- 
vinced. Life — intelligent life — was 
gone. There were birds and there were 
small animals. There were fishes in 
the waters. But on all the Earth there 
was no intelligent life, save himself. 

He was lonely with a vast loneliness 
that pressed upon him like a weight. 
In all the smiling green of the land, 


123 

the fresh breezes and the sunshine, he 
could find no solace. His aloneness 
was a bitter acid eating into his 
mind. The last intelligent being 
upon all the Earth — 

The Varu were gone, for the wea- 
pon had worked and had been tho- 
rough in its working. They had died 
by the hand of one whose race they 
had murdered. Their city was a great 
and glittering coffin upon the sur- 
face of the planet that was to have 
been the spoil of their conquest. 
Their dreams and their glories had 
tumbled into dust with the pressing 
of a switch. 

There were gone even as the 
Earthlings had gone before them, but 
more mercifully. Death had come 
quickly. Its pangs had been too brief 
for realization. 

Intelligent life was gone now, and 
Omega was alone. He was bent and 
lined with that knowledge. His hands 
upon the controls were listless, as 
though death were to welcome a 
thing to avoid. But not just yet * An 
answer to a last question that 

bothered him — then. 

He turned the ship about, sent it 
soaring with increased speed. Towers 
and spires leaped into view on the 
horizon, grew, and became a city. It 
was the city of the Varu, a place of 
the dead, for bodies lay sprawled 
everywhere in the streets and build- 
ings. A coffin for a race— 

Omega landed his ship upon the 
roof of the Council Building. He 
made his way quickly to the Cham- 
ber of the Archives, keeping his eyes 
straight ahead in an attempt to avoid 
the scenes of death all about him. In 
that room, where the records of the 
Council were kept, he did some 
searching. 

A ND FINALLY he found it. He 
had wanted to know the location 
of the place where he had been dis- 


124 


AMAZING STORIES 


covered by the Varu; the place, also, 
where the last of the Earthlings had 
died. Now he knew. Something like 
peace and calm was coming over him. 

He returned to his ship, and soared 
up into the bright, bltie sky where the 
sun was shining. The city dropped 
away unheededly behind him. His 

eyes were filled with a quiet glad- 
ness. 

He was going to join his people. 

It was evening when Omega was 
certain at last that he had found the 
exact location of the village. He 
brought down the ship and walked 
slowly to the ruins, his bright eyes 
glancing about quickly like a man re- 
turning home after a long, long time 

and wishing to recall old scenes in 
his mind. 

There was little left of the village 
to tell what sort of a place it had 
been. The foundation stones were 
blackened and cracked, the timbers 
charred. Trees and plants grew thick- 
ly, and deep gulleys criss-crossed 
everywhere, scars left where the 
beams of the Varu had seared on that 
day so long ago. 

Omega nodded slowly. This was all 
vast peace and comfort in his eyes. 
This was home. He was so tired. He 
had come home to rest. 

In the sky the sun was setting. Its 
dying rays made a rose and gold glory 
of the horizon. A cool wind was mov- 
ing through the trees, making soft, 
rustling sounds that were like voices 
he had known. They were calling to 
him, gently and soothingly. 

Omega nodded slowly. This was all 
so very appropriate. He would go out 
with the sun, laying himself down to 
rest in this place that was home. And 
the winds in the trees would make 
music over him for all eternity. 

He fumbled at his belt, looked 
down at the hand blaster that he held 
in his palm, the crude little weapon 
he had fashioned from an atom lamp. 


In that mystical place where the 
dead go, he intended to join his peo- 
ple. 

His eyes on the setting sun, he 
raised the weapon to his head. His 
finger tautened upon the release 
switch. 

And then, of a sudden, there came 
a shout. It came with the startling 
unexpectedness of a thunderclap out 
of a clear sky. Incredulous, wildly 
amazed. Omega whirled around. 
Turned, to see figures running to- 
ward him. Beings just like himself. 

The hand blaster fell from his 
slackened grip. His hands were numb, 
his body was numb. He stared, try- 
ing desperately to convince himself 
that this was a hallucination, that he 
had already pulled the trigger and 
was in that other land. But the fig- 
ures came on, rapidly, inexorably. 

Then they were all about him, and 
their hands were upon him, and their 
voices were a chaotic thing in his 
cars. He reeled and would have fallen 
but for the bodies pressed against 
him and the arms that enwrapped him. 
They knew him, he thought dimly 
and terribly bewilderedly. They were 
greeting him like a loved one long 
gone. They knew him. He didn’t un- 
derstand how or why, but gladness 
was a fountain springing up turbu- 
lently within him. 

Soft and still, the darkness came. 

With his people, Omega was build- 
ing. Phoenix-like, a new village was 
arising from the ashes of the old. 

A X , E STROKES sounded in the 
forests, and figures worked /in 
the cleared fields. Here and there 
groups returned from forage and 
hunting parties, some carrying meat 
and others woven baskets filled with 
nuts and fruits. There was activity 
and there was sunshine, and there 
was great happiness. 

Omega was learning the language 


OMEGA 


125 


of hi* people rapidly. Already he 
could carry on simple conversations. 
But he was impatient to gain complete 
mastery of this tongue which he had 
barely begun learning while a child, 
for he felt that something momen- 
tuous awaited him, something which 
would be understandable only when 
he knew all the words. 

Often he would catch a sly, teasing 
brightness in the eyes of the others, as 
though they were trying ineffectual- 
ly to conceal some future surprise, it 
seemed that a secret was being held 
that was to be divulged only when he 
knew the language thoroughly. He 
thought that this secret was linked 
to the strange fact that they knew him 
and had been expecting him. 

Other questions bothered him. Ac- 
cording to the records of the Varu, 
every last Earthling had been ex- 
terminated. Yet here were a large 
group of Earthlings, numbering al- 
most fifty. How was it that they had 
escaped the Varu? And very pale and 
thin his people were, as if they had 
been long absent from sunlight and 
the things that round a body with vi- 
brant life. Why was this? He thought 
he knew, but was not certain. 

Curiousity burned violently within 
Omega. He tried often to question 
Old Hank, the leader of the tribe, even 
to extract some very vague hint. But 
the aged and whiskered patriarch 
would beat off every attempt with a 
smile and a shake of his grey head. 

“You aren’t ready yet, son,” the old 
man would say. “Just keep on learn- 
ing how to talk like us.” 

So Omega contented himself with 
the thought that the information 
would be forthcoming in but a short 
time now. He worked hard and stud- 
ied hard, and life was very good. 

One evening Old Hank gave a sig- 
nal that had obviously been agreed 
upon long before, since almost in- 
stantly there was a stir of excitement 


which was rendered lurid by the flar- 
ing up of lighted torches. Omega felt 
the impact of many eyes upon him, 
and his heart leaped. The secret con- 
cerning him was to be revealed. 

Old Hank approached him, carry- 
ing a torch like the others. 

“Well, son, I guess you’re ready. 
Tonight you’re going to learn what 
everything is all about, but right now 
we’ve got something to show you. Get 

a torch and come along.” 

Omega did as requested, then fell 
into step beside the old man, who 
formed the lead of a long column of 
eerily flickering lights. His thoughts 
spun turbulently. 

Through the forest they wended 
their way and to the hills that rose 
beyond. They skirted the hills, en- 
tered a tiny valley. Before a bluff 
that rose steeply, Old Hank stopped. 
He gripped the portion of a large rock 
that projected at waist-high level, 
pulled. And before Omega’s astound- 
ed gaze, a door swung in the face of 
that bluff, where he would never have 
thought a door could be. 

“Be careful,” Old Hank cautioned. 
“The tunnel is rather low for a 
few hundred feet. From there on — 
well, you’ll see for yourself.” 

They entered. Down, down, they 
went, the torches scattering the dark- 
ness. Then they halted. Several men 
disappeared in the gloom ahead, and 
with their going came a bustle of 
activity. A whine lifted through the 
darkness. Omega was almost blinded 
by a brightness that outrivalled the 
feeble light of the torches as the 
light of the sun does the moon. He 
gasped, stared unbelievingly. 

For before him, lighted by lamps 
in the roof, spread a great cavern. 
And in this cavern was something 
that was unmistakeably a village. 
“Subville,” Old Hank said softly. 

A HUGE fired burned in the vil- 
lage meeting place. It was more 


126 


AMAZING STORIES 


for ceremony than for warmth, since 
the night was pleasant. Overhead the 
stars glittered in all their magnifi- 
cent display. The entire tribe was 
gathered about the blaze. They were 
hushed expectantly, their eyes upon 
Old Hank. 

The old man cleared his throat. 

“Folks, ” he began in a vibrant 
voice, “tonight we have in our 
midst one who has almost become a 
legend among us — Richard Carron!” 

There was a great cheer, and Omega 
frowned in perplexity because he did 
not quite understand. But realization 
flooded over him with a dizzy weak- 
ness when Old Hank placed an arm 
about his shoulders. 

“Yes, son, you are Richard Carron. 
You are the saviour of what is left 
of the Earthling race. But sit down, 
now, and I will tell you your story.” 

Memory of that evening was ever 
to remain with Omega, or Richard 
Carron, as he was henceforth to be 
known. It was to be a very dear mem- 
ory. There was the huge blaze with 
its cracklings and gyrations, the 
faces that smiled at him, the cool 
breeze on his feverish body. There 
was Old Hank’s deep, slow voice. All 
symbols of his new life and happi- 
ness. 

Old Hank settled himself and began 
Richard Carron’s story. But it was 
more than a story of Richard Carron. 
It was a story of the brillance, cun- 
ning, and fortitude of a race. 

“It was your father, Mark Carron 
who conceived the plan, Richard. He 
may have been aided by others, in- 
cluding myself, but the plan was en- 
tirely his own as regards the basic 
idea behind it. The others and myself 
merely added embellishments. Your 
father was a genius, as few men are. 

“At the time Mark Carron gave 
birth to his scheme — about 1971 — we 
were just a collection of little more 
than a dozen camouflaged wooden 


huts. When the Satans, as we called 
them — a corruption of “Saturns” from 
the appearance of their flying ships — 
destroyed our armies and began de- 
stroying our cities, people fled to the 
wilds to seek escape. But soon the 
Satans began wiping out the little 
villages hidden among the hills and 
mountains, and everyone realized that 
they were bent on a war of exter- 
mination. There was nothing that any- 
one could do about it. All organized 
resistance had gone when our armies, 
having valiantly 'fought a losing bat- 
tle for ten terrible years, finally suc- 
cumbed. , 

“Your father was certain that the 
Earthling race was doomed. But he 
would not accept this fatalistically, 
nor would he flee from a danger 
which he knew would inevitebly over- 
take him. He wanted to fight back 
some way, wanted this with all the 
determination of his courageous 
heart. He sought for some method of 
fighting back which would be suc- 
cessful where the methods of our 
soldiers and scientists Lad failed. He 
found it. It was very subtle, very 
clever, and very ingenious. 

“Your father’s plan demanded much 
precious time in its execution. We 
had to build Subville and fit it up 
with the things most necessary for 
human inhabitation. Fortunately, this 
region is honeycombed with caves and 
caverns such as you have seen. But 
still our task wasn’t easy, considering 
the natural difficulties which we 
faced and the mental strain under 
which we labored. 

“Subville was ideally suited to our 
purpose. It was large and well venti- 
lated, and had a temperature which 
was constant and quite comfortable. 
It had an underground river which 
served not only as a source of water, 
but also as source of power to run 
our crude electrical generators for 
lighting the caverns. 


OMEGA 


127 


URING the time that Sub- 
ville was being made ready, 
a continual stream of refugees poured 
into our above-surface village, until 
it became dangerously large. But they 
were too valuable to send away, for 
v/e needed them not only as helpers 
but for the precious articles which 
they brought along. They came afoot, 
in the last running automobiles, and 
in carts. They brought with them 
cooking utensils, metals, and tools. 
Some even volunteered to return to 
the ravaged cities and scavenge for 
the vital things v/e needed. Many of 
these were killed in the brave effort, 

but a goodly number managed to get 

♦ 

back. 

"We were a rather motely group. 
Among us were farmers, scientists, 
technicians, factory laborers, clerks, 
lawyers, doctors, and many others too 
numerous to mention or too difficult 
to classify. Your father himself was a 
psychologist from a great university, 
a famous man in his line, and I was an 
electrical engineer. But in spite of our 
great diversity of kind, wc worked 
together with a co-ordination as 
beautiful as that of ants or bees. 

“Frantically and desperately, we 
labored, always expecting each day to 
be our last. And finally Subville was 
ready. By this time there were a 
great many of us living in it. As each 
family or person entered, he took with 
him every bit of the material of his 
former dwelling. In this way we kept 
our above-surface village from be- 
coming too large, and at the same 
time procured a vast supply of wood. 

“This also served a purpose vital to 
the plan, that of making the village 
appear small and inhabited by very 
few people. Then we stocked Subville 
with every bit of food available. We 
even had seeds to grow under special 
sunlamps. 

“Your father's plan now needed one 
last step before it was completed. Its 


eventual success only Fate could de- 
termine. This is where you enter. You 
were about two years old by this 
time.” 

Old Hank paused to place a gnarled 
hand upon the arm of the man who 
had been know as Omega. His tone 
grew more intense. 

“You, Richard Carron, are actually 
the center about which the entire plan 
revolved. Subville, everything, were 
only minor satellites. 

“Mark Carron was a psychologist, a 
wizard at a science that had pro- 
gressed tremendously since its con- 
ception during the earlier half of the - 
century. He knew the workings of 
the mind as minutely as a watchmak- 
er does a clock. Thus, with his gifts 
and ability, he planted in your child 
mind the seeds of a terrible hatred 
for the Satans, an irresistible urge to 
exterminate them as they had en- 
deavored to exterminate us. With 
this he sowed a super-cunning. All 
these were timed to germinate and 
grow when you had reached an age 
and degree of intelligence which 
would enable you to carry them out 
effectively and thoroughly. 

“Then a tiny shelter was erected a 
distance from the village, and you 
were placed within it. The little that 
the plan demanded remain of the vil- 
lage was to serve as bait to draw the 
Satans. To this end, much of the cam- 
ouflaging material was removed, in 
order to make it conspicious from the 
sky. Lastly, a number of people were 
required to sacrifice their lives by 
remaining with the village so that the 
set-up would seem real. Many — many 
volunteered. 

“The rest retired to Subville, there 
to live an existence whose length 
would be determined only by the suc- 
cess of the plan. You were to be left 
for the Satans to find, far and safe 
from the awful holocaust that would 
come when they descended upon the 



128 


AMAZING STORIES 


village. That was tremendously im- 
portant. Also it was hoped that this 
would excite their curiousity and 
compassion — if any. 

OR MARK Carron knew that 
the only method of fighting 
the Satans was to do it with their own 
science and weapons. And this could 
only be done by one who had ac- 
cess to them. It was his plan that the 
Satans should find you in such cir- 
cumstances that they would permit 
you to live. He was a scientist; he 
knew scientists, knew that they were 
the same the Universe over — eternal- 
ly eager for knowledge. He knew, 
if the Satans did not have other sub- 
jects and if they allowed you to live, 
that they would want to keep you 
for study. And once this step was 
taken, once you reached the proper 
age, he knew that their doom would 
be sealed. For at the same time they 
were studying you, you would be 
studying them, learning their science, 
gaining the background and intelli- 
gence which would enable you to 
build a weapon to wipe them out. 

“And>” the old man’s voice rose, 
“Fate has destined that you succeed. 

“There is little more to be told. Life 
in Subville was hard. It wasn’t long 
until our food gave out; and there 
were sicknesses. More than half our 
number died. But we few who re- 
mained managed to become adapted to 

our new environment and exist. At 

/ 

night we were able to leave the cave 
to hunt for food, since the Satans no 
longer hunted us, believing all 
Earthlings gone. 

“There was little if any news, and 
our main topic of conversation was 
The Plan. We never ceased speculat- 
ing over its success, and our worries, 
fears, and hopes were more painful 
than our sicknesses. You, Richard 
Carron, became something of a leg- 


end among us — a legend of hope. 

“After fifteen years had passed, we 
sent scouts nightly to the ruins of 
the above-surface village to watch for 
you; for your father had planted, 
among the others, the command to re- 
turn to the site of the village after 
your duty had been done. We had 
been growing discouraged until you 
finally came. 

“We are few now — but with the 
menace of the Satans gone, we can 
make a new beginning. We will build 
again, thanks to you, Richard Carron. 
We thank you deeply and fervently. 
You will always have our love and 
respect. 

“In conclusion, you are now our 
leader. We are your people to com- 
mand, for I am old and we recognize 
the fact that you have a greater 
knowledge than any of us. Lead us 
a little up that long, hard road back 
to glory, Richard Carron.” 

Old Hank’s voice died away. And 
the fire had died, too. The people 
were still. Their eyes, filled with 
tears yet very bright, were fixed upon 
the man who was once Omega but 
now was Richard Carron, their leader. 

f> I CHARD Carron was staring into 
the embers of the fire. His mind 
was reeling from the impact of all 
he had heard. He was filled with a 
vast wonder and admiration at it all, 
a humble respect for the great mind 
that had conceived and engineered 
the brilliant and daring scheme. 

This last troubled him. He turned 
to Old Hank. 

“My father — what became of 
him?” 

The oldster looked away, into the 
darkness. 

“He remained with the village, 
Richard Carron,” came the low and 
gentle reply. “You see, your mother 
died when you were born, and he was 



OMEGA 


129 


never quite the same after that. He 
loved her deeply. Besides, since his 
plan called for a sacrifice of lives, 
he wanted to be among those who died, 
for his mind would never have been 
easy otherwise. And he felt that he 
was no longer needed. His part was 
done ; the rest was up to you and that 
mystery men call Fate. He died gl^d- 
\y y Richard Carron, and there should 
be no sorrow or regrets. The future 
is bright before us. Will you lead 

us there ?” 

Richard Carron rose. A vast 
warmth and a vast joy were surging 
up within him. 

“I will lead you — my people,” he 
said simply. And with their voices 
ringing tumultuously in his ears, he 
turned and stumbled off into the 
darkness. He wanted to be alone a 
little while, to bring some order to 
the chaos of his thoughts and emo- 

tions. 

The breeze moved like a caress 
through the warmth of the night. The 
rustlings of the leaves was a paean. 
The stars were like glints from hap- 


GRASS PILLS 


py eyes. The whole night was flooded 
with laughter and joy. 

Richard Carron looked back at the 
village — his village now filled with 
his people. They wohld live in the 
sunlight again, beneath the blue sky, 
in the fresh winds. They would be- 
come brown and they would become 
strong. They would plant and they 
would reap. They would be fruitful 
and they would multiply. And more, 
they would build again. 

And he would be there to lead them. 
His would be there to aid them 
over the rough places in the journey 
that lay ahead. He would try to take 
them as far up that long, hard road 
back to glory as his years of life 
permitted. 

He looked at the village, his back 
straightening and his eyes shining. 
Someone had thrown more wood on 
the fire, and though the great blaze 
had dwindled to ashes, there was still 
a spark left to ignite the added fuel, 
and now it flared up brightly. 

It was an omen of the future. 

THE END 


LIGHTNING MAGNET 


* By .Ion Barry 

M ANY YEARS ago our western plains 
were excellent pasture for cattle. But 

today more and more of the land has be ' 
come barren. Many attempts have been 
made to reseed the country but most have 
failed Recently a new method has had con 
siderable success. With this method, grass 
seeds are enclosed in small pellets of clay, 
and dropped to the ground from planes 
The clay makes the seeds heavy 80 that 
they are not blown away or eaten by birds. 
They just lay there till a good rain soak.-, 
the clay away and they take root Many 
acres in Wyoming, Arizona, and Idaho have 
already been sown with these little pellets. 
If this system becomes entirely success! ul, 
it will mean the restoration of vast areas 
of grasslands and a great increase m the 
production of beef. 


* By A. Morris ★ 

D URING the past few months a large 
electric company has hired a young 

scientist to watch for lightning to strike 
the Empire State Building in New York 
City He has a great deal of equipment on 
hand including cameras and recording ma- 
chines. His findings will help the men in 
the laboratories discover ways of protecting 
electrical machines from being damaged by 
electricity. The radio antenna on top ot 
the building is often struck during an elec- 
trical storm. One summer it was struct 
twelve times in one day. But it is never 
damaged by these bolts because the build- 
ing's steel structure acts like a lightning 
rod and gives the lightning an easy pain 
to the ground. Just by being the tallest 
building and attracting the lightning and 
grounding it, the Empire State Building 
actually protects other buildings near by. 


By Berkeley Livingston 

trigging a laole to the lava core of the 
earth would produce a lot of power — a 
lot more than bargained for. perhaps! 


T HE SHUTTLE car was rolling 
back to operations headquarters. 
Vic Stewart sat at the controls, 
lines of weariness biting deeply along 
the strong jaws and indenting the 
forehead with a perpetual frown. 

“How much longer and further we 
got to go, Meredith?" he asked. 

“Hard to say,” Bill Meredith re- 
plied. Maybe six months, maybe a 
year, maybe tomorrow. And the same 

could be said as to the distance 
Why?” 

Vic wiped the sweat from his eyes. 

1 he car was practically sound and 
airproof and hot as blazes. His body 
was tensed from strain. Meredith, on 
the other hand, was lax and complete- 
ly at ease as he sat forward alongside 
Vic and watched the bare rock slide 
backward as the car sped forward. 
His lean tanned face had a look of 
eagerness and youth about it that his 
companion’s no longer had, yet both 
were about the same age. 

’Well, Vic said. “I’ve been down 
here in this tunnel for three months 
now. Gettin’ kinda tired, if you know 
what I mean?” 

“Sure,” Meredith replied. “I under- 
stand. Let’s see... You’ve been in 
operations for a little better than a 
year. Right?” 

“Yep! Vic Stewart, the bear for 
punishment. So it’s been a year, eh? 
Seems like ten years. No wonder they 
give six month contracts. A guy could 
go crazy working the tunnel. Say! 
Maybe I’ve turned psycho, too ?” 


Meredith grinned, leaned forward 
and patted the other’s shoulder af- 
fectionately. “Not Vic Stewart,” he 
said. “Anyone else, but not old Vic.” 

Vic growled a laugh out of his 
throat. “Bill. Tell me what it’s like 
up above. Haven’t seen the sun or 
smelled fresh air in fourteen months. 
And even a vicarious pleasure would 
be enough for me today.” 

Well,” said the other. “I can’t 
really say. My nose hasn’t had much 
of a chance to lift from the grind- 
stone of Grant and Company.” 

A far-away look came to life in 
Vic Stewart’s eyes, and the frown 
deepened perceptibly on his fore- 
head. It was evident the mention of 
Grant and Company had set off a 
train of unpleasant thoughts. Sudden- 
ly he turned and faced Meredith. 

“That, bosom buddy, seems to be 
the universal complaint. Grant and 
Company — ” Vic stopped looked at 
the other from under lowered lids and 
turned again to the controls. 

“Go on, Vic,” Meredith said. His 
face was as placid as the waters of a 
mill pond. 

Why not? Vic said reflective- 
ly, speaking without looking at his 
friend,^ as if the words had to come 
forth. “You’re new in Gehenna, Bill. 
You’re gonna hear a lot which will 
surprise you. Knock you off your 
pins, in fact. Grant and Company are 
the unpardonable sin down here.” 

“So-o — ” Meredith’s voice was flat, 
unreflective of thought. "Look, Vic. 


130 






Meredith gestured at the screen. "Now try telling me there's no Hell!" 


131 


i 


4 

\ 





132 


AMAZING STORIES 


You’re batching it. Why don’t you 
come over tonight. .for dinner. 
You’ve never met my wife and family. 
And I can promise a night’s fun. 
Sally’s sister is staying with us. And 
you’ll like her. What say?” 

“You mean a home-cooked meal?” 
Vic’s voice seemed tj be liquid, as if 
he were drooling at the thought. 
“Just tell me where and what time.” 

“One eighty six Avenue B,” Mere- 
d i t h said. “Cocktails at seven- 
thirty . ...” 

“Make mine Manhattan!” Vic said. 
“I’ll be there.” 

A VENUE B ended on a cul-de-sac 
** and one eighty six proved to be 
the last duplex on the street. Vic 
Stewart, dressed in sportswear which 
was a year and a half behind the fash- 
ions, yet looking in his lean, hungry 
way as if they were in the height of 
fashion, paused for an instant before 
the sidedoor entrance. Then his fin- 
ger was jabbing the button. 

He wanted to say something, any- 
thing, to the vision of loveliness 
which confronted him at the opening 
of the door, but his tongue simply 
refused to function, though his mind 
was working at the words furiously. 
Beautiful sweet, wondrous, marvel- 
ous, stunning.... There were other 
words also, but those best described 
Norma Hale. She was all that and 
more, as she stood in the tiny vesti- 
bule, greeting Vic. 

As if understanding his wordless 
pose, she smiled gently and moved 
aside, saying as she did: 

“So you’re the fabulous Vic Stew- 
art? Why, all Bill has done since 
our arrival, has been talk of you and 
what you’ve accomplished. But come 
in, Vic.... They’re waiting on the 
terrace — with Manhattans.” 

Vic grinned at mention of the cock- 
tails and of a sudden the lines of 
worry and concentration disappeared 


from his face and he looked like a 
hungry boy, hungry for love, affec- 
tion and fun. Norma felt the sudden 
lump in her throat and wondered at 
it. She felt the blood leave her face 
and bit her lip with small perfect 
teeth at the realization of her feel- 
ings. But other than that there was no 
other sign of her mental disturbance. 

Vic stepped in and she preceded 
him to the terrace, which was reached 
through the living room and beyond 
a pair of French doors. Bill Meredith, 
his wife, Sally and their son Hayes, 
were waiting for them. 

The cocktails were just right, the 
meal which followed, was superb, and 
the talk had just the right tone. Vic 
learned that Norma was twenty two 
years old, a public relations executive 
in a large firm, possessed a M. S. de- 
gree from Columbia, and loved tennis, 
Vic’s favorite sport. 

Hayes, an intelligent lad of ten, 
said good-night, kissed his mother 
and father and aunt, and shook hands 
with a grave air and left for his room. 
Then the talk became less general 
and more specific and direct. 

The three of them seemed to 
pounce on Vic, so did the talk con- 
verge in his directions. There were 
questions of operation, of the health 
of the workers, of how far the work 
had gone. Vic answered most of them 
with smiling agreeability. Then he 
noticed a strange fact. It was as if the 
talk and questioning had a direct way, 
as if they were on the quest of a par- 
ticular answer. 

“. . . .Now look, gang!” he said after 
a while. “How about telling me of the 
upstairs world? Y’know, I haven’t 
heard anything of what goes on up 
there in a long time.” 

TT WAS Norma who replied: “It 
hasn’t changed much, Vic. Only 
for some people. I might as well tell 
you. I’m also working for Grant and 



GEHENNA, INCORPORATED 


133 


Company, though indirectly. 

“And I’m here for one reason. To 
break down the bad impression which 
is current above about what’s going 
on down here. This has proved to be 
a very expensive proposition, and not 
alone in money expended. For every 
foot of tunnel a life is lost. The im- 
pression above is that Grant and Com- 
pany doesn’t give a damn what it 
costs, in any direction.” 

“Maybe they’re right in their im- 
pression,” Vic said. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” 
Bill said, leaning forward in his chair 
and peering intently into his friend’s 
face. 

“Let’s not fence!” Vic said abrupt- 
ly. “You’ve been driving for some- 
thing. So I’ll talk, first, and after, 
listen. I’ll spill the proverbial beans, 
but only on the promise that you’ll 
all do the same.” 

“Done!” said Norma. 

“Okay then. I won’t go into the 
background of this project. It’s too 
well-known for that. But the pitch is 
this. The discovery was made a few 
years back that the center of the 
Earth is in a liquid state. And that 
tests showed we could obtain from 
this molten mass enough energy to 
forget any other we have ever known. 
So the problem was then resolved to 
the matter of getting it out. 

“Workers had to be obtained, sci- 
ence had to invent the tools by which 
we could get to the center of the 
Earth, homes had to be provided for 
the workers.... But eventually all 
that was done, the city of Gehenna 
was built and the vast scheme of drill- 
ing started. 

“Two companies began operations 
in a race to see which could get to the 
center first. The International Court 
of Laws gave a decision which -gave 
the entire rights of possession and 
use to that outfit which was first on 
the scene. So Europeans Inc. and 


Grant and Company began the race, 
each from almost opposite ends. We 
have dug an approximate eight hun- 
dred miles. What and how far they’ve 
gone is a mystery. And without say- 
ing, it’s been a terrific undertaking. 

“So the city of Gehenna was built, 
with eternal artificial light and air, 
a city enclosed in a shell of plastic 
material which can and does with- 
stand the most terrific pressure. Men 
work within the drill itself, vehicles 
are made so that there can be no such 
thing as getting the ‘bends’. Every- 
thing but the human factor has been 
taken into consideration. And that 
factor, as far as I’m concerned the 
most important, was thrown into the 
discard. Men, as human beings, simply 
do not exist. The machine is what 
counts here. And the time has come 
when the men are going to revolt. .” 

“So it’s true!” Norma broke in. 
“What the rumors have spoken of 
have a basis in fact. They said that 
agitators have been at work, have 
created discord and discontent down 
here. That men are laying down on 
the job — ” 

“Nor can I blame them!” came the 
startling words from Vic Stewart. 

^PHE TWO women and the man 
“*• looked at each other. They acted 
as if they couldn’t believe their ears. 
Yet Vic got an idea they weren’t dis- 
pleased about what they heard. The 
opposite, rather. 

“You heard me all right,” Vic went 
on. “Listen. In the beginning we got 
sandhogs, tunnel men. They were 
used to putting in a eight hour day 
that is really rough. But down here 
conditions are different. Three hours 
is the limit a man can work safely. 
Heat of a hundred and fifty degrees; 
constant, unrelenting heat, insuffi-* 
cient safety devices, constant danger 
at their fingertips. Man ! I know. I’m 
Chief Supervisor, with ten foremen 


134 


AMAZING STORIES 


under me, and two thousand men un- 
der them. I know what’s going on.” 

“And what’s going on?” Meredith 
asked. 

“Various things, but only one I 
don’t like. Don’t is a mild word! I 
should have said, fear. Sabotage.” 

This time there was a positively tri- 
umphant note in Norma’s voice: 

“So that’s it.” 

“Yes, that’s it. But perhaps you 
don’t realize the consequences of such 
a thing. Bill does, I’m sure. I’ll make 
it plain and put it in simple language. 

“We use gigantic drills and after, 
borers. The borers are complex ma- 
chines weighing several hundred tons, 
and are capable of making a hole ten 
feet in diameter. Now if the sabotage 
takes place in the borers and some- 
thing goes v/rong the whole planet 
might go up in one grand burst of 
fireworks. There is untold pressure on 
tap and if it’s let loose neither I nor 
anyone else can tell what might hap- 
pen. This I can say. First the bubble 
in which this city nestles will be en- 
veloped by gas which in turn will be 
ignited by some spark. Do I have to 
say more?” 

“And the resultant explosion will 
seek an exit, that exit provided by the 
shaft from the surface, an avenue nine 
miles wide,” Meredith said. “But they 
can’t be that crazy!” 

“The trouble with something like 
sabotage,” Vic said, “is that the sa- 
boteur operates from a different set 
of principles than we do and con- 
sequently acts without thought as to 
the future, other than his act will 
bring him glory. In this case it will be 
a glory not found on Earth.” 

“How far have they gone, Vic?” 
Norma asked. 

“Drill heads broken, tools missing, 
one borer wrecked beyond repair. 
And worse, lately, one of the guards 
found a small leak in the bubble 
around Gehenna. It was a mattetvof 


good luck that he found it when he 
did. An emergency crew repaired it 
quickly. Another day and the pres- 
sure would have collapsed the entire 
city.” 

“You think it was broken intention- 
ally?” Meredith asked. 

Vic shrugged his shoulders. “Im- 
possible to say,” he said. “I wouldn’t 
hazard a guess.” 

Norma sighed deeply, smiled in 
sudden warmth and said : 

“Let’s get something on the audio- 
television. They say there’s a new 
wrestler in New York that’s a better 
actor than Hale Belstrom, the newest 
interpreter of Shakespeare.” 

Vic whose mood of light-hearted 
ease had vanished with the serious- 
ness of their talk, felt a stir of gra- 
titude at the change in subject. Smart 
girl, he thought. I don’t quite dig 
you, but someday, and soon, I will. 
He arose and followed the others into 
the music room and for the balance 
of the time he was there enjoyed him- 
self. Norma saw him to the door. 

“By the way, Vic,” she said, as he 
held her small hand in farewell, “I’m 
riding down with you and Bill tomor- 
row. Part of my job. The public must 
be informed of what goes on....” 

“Swell! For once it will be a real 
pleasure going to work,” he said. 

She grinned impishly at the sudden 
light of delight in his eyes. She 
looked down at her hand, imprisoned 
in his, and he flushed momentarily, 
then grinned in return. 

“It was so small and cool,” he said, 
“and so nice to hold I hated to let go. 
I wonder if your — if your....” 

“Yes-s — ” she urged him. 

“Not tonight!” he spoke in abrupt 
decision. “Another time.” 

She let it go at that. “Then I’ll se* 
you tomorrow,” she said. 

He nodded and waved good-bye. 

^ICjY GOODNESS!” Norma ex- 
1 ** claimed as she made herself 


GEHENNA, INCORPORATED 


135 


as comfortable as possible in the 
rather narrow car. “All these process- 
es we went through. ...” 

“Have to, Norma,” Bill said. “The 
pressure down here is much greater 
than even in Gehenna. And the tem- 
perature is not regulated. The men 
work stripped almost completely. 
Right now you don't feel a thing; the 
car is air-conditioned. But once we 
get on the field. . .Well. You might 
be sorry you took the trip.” 

“Nothing will make me feel sorry,” 
she promised. 

Vic gave her a lop-sided grin and 
thought she sounded rather cocky. He 
knew that cockiness would disappear 
very quickly once she stepped into 
the furnace of the field. He caught 
a green light looked down at his au- 
tomatic throttle and saw he was right 
on the nose. Another two minutes and 
the shaft they were working would be 
reached. He called to Bill that it 
would be soon and Bill undid the 
strap from about Norma’s waist. 

“How fast does this thing go?” she 
asked. 

“Four hundred miles an hour, we 
did it in forty minutes, so you can 
figure the distance we went.” 

She whistled softly. H’m ! They 
were a long, long way down. 

Then the immense spread of the 
tunnel field hove into view and a 
few seconds later they slid into one 
of the berths at the port. 

The instant she stepped from the 
car she knew what Vic and Bill meant 
when they mentioned the intense heat. 
Though she wore only the briefest of 
halters and trunks, they felt as if they 
were made of metal. The heat was like 
some impossible pressure beating at 
her from all sides. For the first time 
in her nature life she thought she 
was sweating, and not perspiring. 

“Warm for May, isn’t it?” Vic 
asked, as he led the way to his office. 
"And for July too,” she said. “I 


hope your office is a little cooler.” 

“Just a bit,” he replied. “But don’t 
get your hopes up. “We're stopping 
only for my work sheet. Then we’ll 
go down to where tne boss drill’s at 
work and you can get your work done 
as quickly as possible.” 

“Swell,” she said. “I know I can't 
take too much of this.” 

She flanked Vic on his right with 
Bill Meredith on his left, as they 
strolled to the shaft, after Vic got his 
work sheet. Her eyes took in the im- 
mensity of the field in startled sur- 
prise. She had an idea it would be 
immense but she simply had no ima- 
gination for its actual size. 

The roof arched fifty feet above 
them, with tremendous sheets of the 
new metal Soladium hammered flat 
into the virgin rock. Great columns of 
the metal acted as supports every five 
feet. The huge vault extended for 
miles before them. Vic took a small 
cUimp car and motioned for the others 
to get in. 

“It's a couple of miles to the shaft,” 
he said. “By the way, Bill,” he turned 
to Meredith. “You haven’t been down 
either. It’ll be an experience for you, 
too.” 

f 

HEY WERE at the drilling shaft 
a few moments later. It reminded 
Norma of some of the oil rigs she 
had seen as a youngster when her 
family took a trip to Oklahoma. The 
difference lay in the fact that in this 
rig there were four drills at work. 
And in the center of a hole fifty feet 
across lay the elevator shaft. 

The operator greeted Vic with 
hoarse familiarity as the three 
stepped within the cage. Then turn- 
ing to his starter he flicked the 
switch on and the descent began. It 
was at the most terrific elevator speed 
Norma had ever experienced. And a 
short time later they were at the 
scene of the drilling. 



136 


AMAZING STORIES 


It was a weird scene of seeming 
confusion. Hundreds of men were at 
work on the floor. There was the con- 
tinuous grunt of the drill being 
pounded into the earth, the clatter 
and chatter of hundreds of air ham- 
mers at work, a vast sound of rum- 
bling, as if the very earth were pro- 
testing its violation. And at the drill 
itself a dozen men stood about, all 
intent on instruments before them. It 
was to this group Vic led Norma and 
Bill. 

“Anything new, Sorenson ?” Vic 
asked, after he had introduced his 
friends. 

Sorenson, a giant of a man, whose 
stripped body gleamed with sweat, 
shook his head fiercely. “Blasted 
counter we got doesn’t register ! Had 
to use two of the old ones. Radio-act- 
ivation at the nine mile level. Lots 
of it.” 

Vic frowned. That wasn’t too good. 
It meant a lot of work by-passing it 
and a delay which might take a pe- 
riod of time over which they had no 
control. 

- “Run into any fluid stuff again?” 
Vic asked. 

“Drill 4 did,. Had to shore up and 

start all over again.” 

“That’s nice!” Vic said. His voice 
held a touch of irony. “I’d give a 
cheer if I didn’t know better. What 
was wrong with that counter ? It’s 
the newest gimmick we got.” 

“Someone fooled with it before it 
got here. It just doesn’t register.” 

“Nice. Very nice. We might run 
into a big pocket of the charged stuff 
at any minute and never know we hit 
it until it’s too late. Anv other trouble 
I should know about?” 

Sorenson turned his head to right 
and left, saw they were quite alone, 
and whispered: 

“Yeah! Molik and his crew are at 
it again.” 

Vic’s mouth tightened to a thin, 


bloodless line. The fly in the oint- 
ment. Boris Molik. Molik was a ter- 
rific machine man, but also a big 
trouble-maker. Nothing ever suited 
him. And he was full of complaints 
as a child with a bellyache. 

“What now?” 

“Three of his boys got in the way 
of a hot load. Two of them died and 
we had to surface the other.” 

“Damn! Whose fault was it?” Vic 
was tense. A hot load was a wall dis- 
charge of gaseous steam. Every now 
and then there was one, and since it 
was impossible to predict the occur- 
ence, men were getting hurt from it. 

“I’d say Molik’s. He was lead man 
in the outfit. And the stuff came from 
in front, and shortly after be broke 
ground. He went back for some water 
a second or two before the stuff 
broke through the wall,” Sorenson 
said. 

“That’s the third time,” Vic spoke 
reflectively. “And he’s always going 
back for water just before the break. 
Have one of the boys bring the jerk 
here.” 

ORIS,” Vic began when the 
black-browed, stocky figure 
stepped before the small group at the 
drill head, “this is Miss Norma Hale 
and Bill Meredith.” 

He shook his head vigorously at 
the introduction, his jet eyes seek- 
ing something in each face. 

“Miss Hale is from the front office 
and is down here for one reason. To 
let the people above know what’s go- 
ing on. Now you’ve been a trouble 
maker for months. So suppose you 
shoot your mouth off now and get it 
over with.” 

Molik’s head jerked toward the 
grim-faced Stewart. His heavy slop- 
ing shoulders, muscled as a wrestler’s, 
heaved slightly, and a smile broke on 
his lips, showing stained, broken 
teeth. He spoke with a very small 



GEHENNA, INCORPORATED 


137 


accent, but in excellent English: 

“So. A member of the press, eh? 
Good ! I have waited a long moment 
for this. So you want Boris Molik to 
shoot his mouth off, make com- 
plaints, tell what his eyes have seen 
and his heart felt. So-o? Very well, 
Miss Hale. 

“I say that all this is madness! 
Three thousand men have died. And 
for what. . . . ?” 

“Never mind that!” Vic said sharp- 
ly. “We don’t want your philosophy. 
What’s bothering you?” 

Molik glowered darkly at Vic. His 
lower lip came up slightly over his 
upper in an odd pout. 

“Why don’t you mind your own 
business, Stewart?” he asked. “I never 
liked you and I like you less, now. If 
you’re going to run this interview in 
your way I’ll go back to work right 
now !” 

“Leave him tell his side of the 
story,” Norma stepped in verbally be- 
tween the two. 

“He will, all right !” Vic said grim- 
ly, “No fear of that. I just don’t like 
to hear his guff.” 

“And I don’t like to listen to you 
either!” Molik suddenly shouted. 

Molik’s bellow focused the atten- 
tion of the other workers on the small 
group. Curious eyes watched furtive- 
ly to see what would happen. 

Vic bit his lip, smiled gently, and 
with a sudden swift movement 
grabbed Molik by the throat and 
brought him forward until they stood 
chest to chest. 

“Anytime you want to do anything 
about it just start,” he said. 

Molik’s answer was a sudden lift- 
ing of his knee to Vic’s groin. Vic 
doubled up in pain, and Molik 
chopped with a thick balled-up first 
to the side of Vic’s jaw, sending the 
lighter man staggering. 

“Hey!” Bill Meredith stepped in 
and shoved at Molik. “That was a 


dirty trick. . .” 

He reeled back as Molik came for- 
ward and plowed his fist into his 
jaw. Norma fell back a few feet, her 
hand raised to her mouth her eyes 
mirroring fear. But the few seconds 
respite Vic got from Bill’s inter- 
ference was enough for him. Like a 
battering ram he moved in, head low, 
fists pumping hard close to his sides, 
his body pivoting at the hips with 
each swing. And Molik retreated be- 
fore the relentless attack. 

Then Vic shifted his attack. The 
pummeling fists came higher, to the 
face and eyes, sending Molik’s head 
back and to the side with each blow. 
Vic, a better boxer, was but measur- 
ing the other for the pay-off punch. 

But Vic did not take into account 
Molik’s strength and recuperative 
powers. Molik took terrific punish- 
ment. Then suddenly the stocky man 
lowered his head and charged for- 
ward. Vic sidestepped, and hit down- 
ward in a hook. And Molik turned in- 
ward with the blow, grabbing Vic’s 
fist and twisting his hand at the same 
time. Vic was forced to move in the 
same direction Molik was moving, or 
have his wrist broken. It was an old 
wrestling trick. 

AS VIC came in Molik shifted sud- 
denly and threw Vic over his 
right hip. But his grasp was still 
strong on Vic’s wrist. There was a 
wild look of triumph in Molik’s eyes 
as he stooped over the man on the 
ground. Now his left hand joined his 
right and as Vic lay prone, he saw 
what the other intended, to break his 
hand at the elbow. 

With the speed of a striking snake 
Vic shot both feet upward and Molik 
flew backward, blood spurting from a 
broken nose and cut mouth, where 
Vic’s heels had caught him. 

On the instant Vic came erect and 
moved warily toward the fallen mam 


138 


AMAZING STORIES 


But only for a second. Then he be- 
came aware of the circle of workers. 

“All right !” he stiffened and faced 
about to them. “Party's over. Back to 
work.” 

But something was amiss. Instead 
of complying with his order they 
stood their ground. And on each face 
he read the same glowering message 
of hate. They were waiting for some- 
thing, a spark perhaps, Vic thought. 
Molik provided that spark. 

“Get them!” he shouted through 
the funnel of his fingers trying to 
stop the crimson tide of blood. “Don’t 
let them get away.” 

“Sorenson! Haley!” Vic suddenly 
shouted. “This way.” 

But it was too late. They were fifty 
to one and they simply overpowered 
them by sheer numbers. Vic went 
down under the bodies of six of the 
sweaty muckers of Molik’s crew. The 
last conscious thing he saw, some- 
thing which made him go berserk 
with rage, was the sight of three of 
the half-nude figures fall on Norma 
and bear her to the ground. 

Then the world seemed to hit Vic 
on the temple and he fell into a black 
curtain of velvet softness. . . . 

IC . . . VIC!” a voice was urging 
him out of the black pit. 

He tried to rise but the effort was 
too much for him. He fell back and 
shooting stars swam before his vision 
as he banged his head on the bare 
rock of the floor. But it brought him 
to full consciousness at least. 

Bill and Norma were kneeling at 
his side. A half dozen other figures 
stood about, among them the bloody 
one of the giant Sorenson. Vic lifted 
an arm and Bill grabbed it and helped 
him come to his feet. 

“What happened?” Vic asked. 
“Molik’s taken over,” Bill said. 
“What happened to Sorenson’s 
crew?” 


“Five of them were killed and the 
rest are there.” 

“Norma! You’re all right?” Vic 
asked, stepping to her side and taking 
her arm. 

She smiled up at his concern and 
shook her head. “All right, Vic,” she 
said. “It was you I was worried about. 
You seemed to have gone crazy and I 
was afraid they’d hurt you.” 

“Just a few lumps. I’ve had ’em be- 
fore. It was you had me worried. The 
way they grabbed you. I could have 
killed them.” 

For an instant there was an inde- 
finable something in her eyes. Then it 
was gone, and Vic could only wonder 
at what he had seen. They turned at 
the sound of footsteps. It was Soren- 
son and his crew, or what was left of 
them. 

“Looks like Molik lost his head," 
Sorenson said. Pie was still bleeding 
from a cut over the nose, and one of 
his eyes was closed. 

“Yeah,” Vic agreed. “Unless he’s 
got others to go along. But all I can 
see is trouble for that fathead. He 
can’t think he’s going to come out on 
top — ” 

“Maybe,” Sorenson surprised Vic. 
“They’ve got energy guns. At least 
four of them. And Molik is operating 
on a preconceived plan.” 

“Someone’s going to worry about 
the girl,” Vic said. “Many’s the time 
we stayed on down here for days. So 
it’s entirely possible they won’t think 
about us above. But the girl....” 

“That’s why I say Molik lost his 
head,” Sorenson said. “He’ll have to 
improvise now. Something I don't 
think he’s too good at.” 

“Well,” Bill broke in. “Now that 
you’ve settled the future of Molik, 
suppose you fellas get to work on us.” 

“Look, Bill,” Vic said sharply. “As 
long as Molik has those energy guns 
he’s top dog. One blast and we’d be 
dust, settling on the floor. So just re- 



GEHENNA, INCORPORATED 


139 , 


lax for a while. ...” 

QORENSON had hit the nail 
^ squarely on the head when he said 
Molik couldn’t improvise well. At 
that moment he was pacing back and 
forth before the lift. His face was 
swollen and discolored from the 
pounding Vic’s fists had given it. 
Now and then he would pause and 
look darkly upward, as if in indeci- 
sion, then once again resume his rest- 
less pacing. 

Squatting on their haunches were 
his seconds, a Eurasian of varied 
breed, small, lean, vicious-eyed, called 
Dao San; and a lanky Englishman 
with a bad cast in one eye, and a 
penchant for using a knife, a man 
named Sam Higgins. 

“Looks like Boris swallowed a bit 
more’n he c"n chew,” Higgins ob- 
served. 

“I think our friend is worried about 
the woman,” San remarked. “He has 
reason to be. They bring nothing but 
trouble. It is my opinion that all wom- 
en should be strangled the instant 
they begin to talk. Their mouths are 
the nooses in which we entangle our- 
selves.” 

Higgins squealed in laughter. 
“Hee-hee! But sometimes it’s plea- 
sant to die in the noose,” he observed. 

“You are a pig,” San said without 
malice. “A gross pig.” 

“Wrong, San. Just sensible, that’s 
Sam Higgins. I never think about the 
future. The present’s hard enough to 
work with. Now take Boris. He wants 
to be the big-shot but he just ain’t 
got the capacity. Me, I just take 
what comes along and don’t worry 
none about the morrow.” 

“A most sensible attitude,” San 
agreed with the other. “Aah! I think 
our friend has made a decision. Here 
he comes. . . . w 

Boris scowled darkly down at the 
two. As San had said, he had made 


his mind up. He was going to risk 
the future on a single cast of the 
dice. It was to be all or nothing. If he 
failed, he shrugged his shoulders. 
Failure was better not thought of. 

“San, Higgins,” he began, “there’s 
no use in just sitting down in this 
hole anymore. We might as well 
finish what has been begun. Take two 
crews upstairs. Anri with them take 
four energy guns, concealed of course. 
We can’t risk exposure, so clean up 
everything up there. We must gain 
control of the whole area. I’ll stay 
down here for a spell and map out a 
plan of future operations.” 

Without a word the two men rose 
and started out for their crews. 
Boris, still scowling watched them 
depart. He had planned well and 
long and now the moment of decision 
had arrived. The dice were cast and 
there was no turning back. 

Molik had been hired at the very 
beginning when the contest had 
started, by Europeans Inc. His job 
was . that of sabotage. But with the 
passing of time Molik had come to 
the realization that whoever con- 
trolled the workings could name his 
own price. His men had infiltrated 
everywhere. He knew even better and 
to a greater capacity, the exact dis- 
tance covered by the master drill. 
The readings of the gauges had been 
transmitted to him even before they 
.reached Vic Stewart. 

He knew, for instance, a fact Vic 
wasn’t aware of. A piece of scien- 
tific apparatus had been put into use, 
apparatus Vic had no knowledge of, 
yet which had been sent to the field 
office. This wondrous gauge mea- 
sured the amount of energy in the 
rock which had been drilled out. 
By this means the drilling could be 
determined exactly. And Boris knew 
it was a matter of a very short time 
and their goal would be reached. 

With this knowledge Molik felt 


14 ® 


AMAZING STORIES 


he had the best hand to play. 

He watched the hundred men file 
into the gigantic cage and saw it 
coom upward. Then he called to 
several men, with strange-looking 
weapons cradled in their arms, and 
started out to where the prisoners 
were. 

OOKS LIKE the head rat is 
heading this way,” Sorenson 
observed. 

“Too bad he’s got his bully boys 
with him/' Vic said. “I’d like to fin- 
ish what I started.” 

Norma’s hand fell on his arm. 
“Please, Vic. No trouble !” 

He smiled into her eyes. “Don’t 
worry, baby,” he said. “I won’t start 
anything. Not until you’re in a safe 
spot, anyway.” 

Molik’s cold glance travelled over 
them as he stood, hands held on hips, 
legs spread wide, shoulders hunched, 
the naked, hairy chest gleaming with 
sweat. “So — o! Now Molik gives the 
orders, eh? Very well, then. I want 
no trouble from any of you. I have 
placed men with guns to watch you 
for the present. When my men have 
returned form the field above I will 
determine what will be done with 
you.” 

“That’s decent of you, Molik,” Vic 
said. “But tell me. What’s this all 
about? You’re not thinking you can 
win out, are you?” 

For the first time the face lost its 
scowl. A thin smile broke on the 
man’s lips. “And why not?” Molik 
asked. “Is it so much a thing of 
doubt? Do not be fooled by circum- 
stances. Down here we are the masters 
of the world, no matter what those 
above may think. They above created 
a Frankenstein and unless they cater 
to us that monster will destroy them.” 

“Don’t be a damn fool!” Vic said 
sharply. “They’ll send a regiment 
down here and wipe you up as if you 


were spittle on the walk.” 

“Bah! You talk but like a child, 
talk without cerebration. Molik’s no 
fool. He has the drills and borers. 
And he has something you don’t have, 
the knowledge that we are within a 
hundred yards of our goal. Let them 
try to use force. I will blow this 
whole world to bits, and them with 
it!” 

They all read the same message of 
madness in Molik’s eyes. He would do 
precisely as he said, if anyone tried 
to cross his path. But what did he 
want? Power? Money? It was so hard 
to read those eyes, eyes which were 
like flat-surfaced marbles. 

Molik gestured for the gun-bearing 
guards to come close. 

“Bring these down to where the 
drill is coring,” he said. “I want them 
where they’ll be close at hand. 

OW LONG have we been 
down here?” Bill Meredith 
asked feverishly. 

Vic glanced at his watch. “About 
eight hours.” 

“I can’t take too much more of 
this,” Bill said, as he began a quick 
pacing back and forth in the narrow 
area of their prison compound. 

“Easy, Bill,” Vic cautioned as he 
rose from where he had been seated 
at Norma’s side, and joined his friend. 

“Easy hell!” Bill growled. “I’m 
worried about my wife and boy up 
there. This Molik’s crazy! He’ll blow 
up the whole world.” 

“No he won’t,” Vic said. “He gains 
nothing by doing that. There won’t be 
any glory for him, then. And guys 
like Molik have to have their glory.” 

Suddenly Bill’s voice was a tense 
whisper: “Vic! Those guards are 
getting lax. Let’s rush them. I’ve 
been watching.” 

“So have I,” Vic whispered in re- 
turn. “Another while and we will. 
I shifted Sorenson and a couple of 







GEHENNA, INCORPORATED 


141 






others where they’ll be in position 
for a quick rush.” 

“What about Norma?” Bill asked. 

“She’ll be safe — if we get to the 
guards in a hurry.” 

Bill gave his friend a quick side- 
long look. There were new lines in 
the face and an even more determined 
look to the jaw. Vic went on: 

“It happened kind of quick, my 
love for your sister-in-law. But I 
guess there isn’t much choice. The 
world or my love... Well, Bill, let’s 
get back before the guards get ner- 
vous. And watch me for the signal.” 

As if woman’s instinct were a live 
thing Norma snuggled close to Vic. 
She said nothing but the press of her 
fingers in his told him volumes. 
“Whatever happens,” she whispered, 
“I love you Vic. I’m not even asking 
how or why. Just content for this 
moment and any other that may 
follow.” 

Once more the march of the hours 
went on. Interminable waiting. They 
had been shoved into a sort of angle 
of rock, for the reason they would be 
easy to watch. Now and then they 
saw men swagger past, carrying tools 
of one sort or another. The growling 
and crunching of machinery went on 
apace. Molik had disappeared on some 
mysterious mission of his own. 

There were three guards, each 
armed with the odd-shaped energy 
gun. They stood or marched past the 
wide opening of the angle. Now and 
then one or two sat or leaned against 
the wall. But always one of them was 
facing the prisoners. Vic became 
aware of an increased activity. And 
became aware also that the drilling 
had stopped. 

Then Molik was before them, a 
glitter of triumph on his face. 

“Gehenna has received my ultima- 
tum!” he growled in his hoarse ac- 
cented voice. “And they have accept- 
ed” 


The prisoners looked at each other 
in consternation. Had Molik won 
without a fight? 

“....And now you will be privi- 
leged to be at the scene of my tri- 
umph. I am having all of you 
brought down to the last boring.” 

Norma looked puzzled and Vic ex- 
plained in a low voice : 

“Molik has reached our goal, evi- 
dently. We have a special machine 
whose purpose it is to cap the open- 
ing, just as in an oil well. Without 
the capping machine the gases would 
escape and all hell would break 
loose. Stay close to me, my dar- 
ling — ” 

r T f HERE WERE fully a thousand 
men before the opening. They 
were tense, expectant, triumphant, 
and frightened, all in one. Not a 
sound came from their lips as the 
eight prisoners were brought to the 
small cage which would take them 
down to where the boring machine 
was to make its last operation. 

Molik, his lieutenants and the 
three armed guards crowded in after 
the prisoners. At a signal from Molik 
the operator sent the cage downward 
in a sudden rush. Norma pressed as 
close to Vic as she could and watched 
the walls slide past through the bars 
of the almost open cage. 

The elevator stopped with a sud- 
denness which almost spilled them 
out. To Vic, Sorenson, and the rest of 
the scene was a familiar one. But to 
Norma and Bill Meredith it was fan- 
tasy. The place was lighted with a 
radiance that was like silver in its 
gleam. Vapors escaped the basalt 
rocks, vapors which were sulphurous 
in their odor. Huge hoses of metal 
snaked their lengths along the un- 
even floor. Directly ahead stood the 
gigantic borer, its nozzle, like the 
snout of some huge prehistoric mon- 



142 


AMAZING STORIES 


ster, stuck into the ground. The din 
of its operation was terrific in the 
confined space. Several dozen men 
tended the borer and several dozen 
more the various other equipment 
which was component to it. 

“Come, Stewart,” Molik said. “Let 
me show you the fine instrument you 
never got. Already we are within a 
dozen yards of our goal,” 

Though the heat was intense Vic 
felt a fine bead of cold sweat break 
out over him as he looked at the 
wondrous gauge Molik paraded for 
his benefit. It was calibrated in inches 
and as Molik said, there was but a 
dozen yards to go. Vic’s eyes took in 
all the other gauges. He noticed some- 
thing which seemed to have escaped 
the eyes of Molik. There was an in- 
tense area of radio-active rock close 
by. The counter was swinging wildly. 

He acted casual, disinterested as he 
turned to Molik. But his eyes never 
left off looking at the counter. It was 
pointed in the same direction as the 
new instrument, which meant the 
radio-activation would be reached at 
about the same time or perhaps a few 
yards before. He had to bank on it 
being before. The borer would stop 
its work automatically. 

“I see you are,” Vic said. He placed 
his hands behind his back and rocked 
on his heels. “But one can never tell, 
Molik. The best laid plans might 
stray. ...” 

“Quotations, my friend, do not in- 
terest me,” Molik said. “I have the 
natural desire to have someone see 
and note my moment of triumph. As 
soon as the goal is reached Dao San 
and Higgins will break the news and 
then I have nothing to do but wait 
for the representatives of Grant and 
Company and Europeans Inc.” 

“I see. You’re going to let the 
highest bidder win,” Vic said. 

“And why not? The one who has 
the use of these facilities can co;itt;pl 


the world. They will buy at my price.” 

“And what’s your price?” Vic 
asked, suddenly tense as he saw the 
needle had swung abruptly to zero. 

“Absolute control!” Molik stated 
flatly. 

WIC GAVE THE signal Sorenson 
* and the others had been waiting. 
The sudden stillness which had come 
on at the cessation of operations was 
like the sound of thunder from a 
cloudless sky. 

Instantly Sorenson and the remains 
of his crew leaped to the attack. Nor 
was Vic a w r hit behind. Forgotten 
were the rules of fair play. His fist 
pounded a sledgehammer blow to 
Molik’s groin, doubling the man up 
in pain and staggering him backward. 
Grasping Norma by one arm Vic raced 
for the cab of the borer. 

But he was not to reach it without 
a fight. As though divining his inten- 
tions, Sam Higgins leaped in front of 
the two. Vic spun Norma aside as 
Higgins suddenly brandished the 
knife he always carried in the belt of 
his trunks. 

“Not so fast, Stewart!” Higgins 
growled as he went into a crouch. 

“Out of my way or I’ll kill you!” 
Vic said stonily as he advanced in 
short, mincing steps. 

“This does the killing, not talk,” 
Higgins said, and suddenly leaped 
in. 

Vic dodged and tried to trip the 
other. But Higgins jumped over the 
outthrust foot and pivoted swiftly, 
slicing with a quick twist of his 
wrist. The knife nicked Vic and 
drew a thin line of blood from his 
side. Once more the circling dance 
was resumed. 

This time it was Vic who leaped 
in. Straight for the other he jumped, 
but at the last second, like a tackier 
who anticipates the runner’s inten- 
tion, so did Vic twist, almost in mid- 


GEHENNA, INCORPORATED 


143 


air, and came in low for the other’s 
knees. 

Higgins tried to leap aside but 
didn’t quite make it. He slashed 
downward as Vic took him off his 
feet but the blow was weak and 
had no aim. Then the two were at 
close grips. Vic grabbed the knife 
hand with the fingers of his right 
hand and tried to twist it free. But 
the Englishman had the fingers of 
one hand about Vic’s throat. So they 
strained and wrestled on the ground, 
first one then the other on top. There 
was no question in their minds but 
that the one who arose would leave 
a dead man on the ground. 

Higgins’ wrist was slippery from 
sweat and Vic was finding it more 
and more difficult to keep his grip. 
As if in from a vast distance Vic 
could hear the sounds of battle all 
about him. There had been no fir- 
ing as yet; the booming sound of an 
energy gun’s discharge was unmis- 
takable. Then he forgot all else as 
the tide of battle turned against 
him. He lost his grip on the knife 
hand and Higgins was on top. 

“Now I’ve got yer!” Higgins 
growled. 

He raised the knife on high, and 
as he held Vic prisoner between his 
thighs, plunged the knife down in a 
savage thrust. 

But Vic, too, was slippery with 
sweat. And as Higgins swung the 
knLe, Vic twisted desperately to es- 
cape it. Higgins was thrown off- 
balance momentarily and the knife 
missed Vic’s body by a fraction of 
an inch and clattered against the bare 
stone. There was a clang of steel as 
the blade broke off at the hilt. And 
the two were now more evenly 
matched. 

Vic arched his body suddenly and 
Higgins flew over the other’s head 
and back about five feet. Like a 
streak of lightning Vic came to 


his feet and dove for the other. And 
this time Vic’s tackle was good. 
Gripping the other by the throat 
Vic banged his head against the bare 
stone until there was a horrible sound 
of breaking bone and blood and grey 
matter oozed from the shattered skull 
of the late Sam Higgins. 

AROSE on unsteady legs and 
* whirled toward where he had 
shoved Norma. She was backed 
against the rock, crouched, wide-eyed 
and intense. A sob broke her throat 
as she dashed forward and threw her- 
self into Vic’s arms. 

He held her close and pressed a 
kiss fiercely against her lips. She 
responded as fiercely. But their mo- 
ment of love was to last only for a 
second. A loud booming sound broke 
them apart. 

They turned and saw Dao San, his 
face and body dripping blood, hold- 
ing an energy gun. He wasn’t aiming 
the gun and from the way he was 
staggering it was obvious he was 
sorely wounded. But now and then 
his finger pressed the trigger and 
great holes would suddenly appear in 
the walls as the energy shells bit 
deep into the rock. 

Men lay in the twisted, silent 
attitudes of death. Here and there 
one crawled or sat, moaning in pain. 
Now another gun joined the chorus 
begun by Dao San. And a third 
joined in. Vic caught sight of Sor- 
enson, standing at the far end of the 
pit, holding a gun at his shoulder. 
He was aiming at Dao San. Then the 
gun spoke sharply and as if by mag- 
ic, the Eurasian simply disappeared, 
and with him, the gun. 

As if in echo, came another boom- 
ing sound. Vic and the girl turned 
their head at the new sound. And 
there stood Molik. He had somehow 
gotten hold of the third gun. It was 
he who had fired it, and where Sor* 


144 AMAZING STORIES 


enson had stood, a shower of dust 
settled on the floor. 

“Quickly!” Vic shouted. “Into the 
borer!” 

He ran forward and, dragging the 
girl after him, leaped into the cab, 
slamming the door closed behind him. 
The girl stood at the circular win- 
dow and watched the carnage con- 
tinue. Molik was firing wildly nei- 
ther aiming or caring where the 
shells hit. Her hand flew to her 
mouth as she caught sight of Bill 
Meredith. He had been hurt in the 
fight. He was crawling along the 
ground on his belly, a foot at a time. 
His left arm hung limp. He was 
crawling toward the maniac figure 
of Boris Molik. 

Then Vic was calling to her. 

She ran to him, shouting of what 
she had seen. 

“Look!” Vic commanded, as he 
pointed to a window-like aperture 
before him. 

She looked and caught her breath. 
It was like looking into a seething 
cauldron of flame, like seeing a vol- 
cano in action, like being at the birth 
of Gehenna. It was a vast sea of mol- 
ten fire, with flames shooting spires 
for a hundred miles, with gases sud- 
denly bursting into vari-colored 
flame. 

“Molik was right. We have to cap 
it before it breaks through. Norma! 
Get to that switch. Soon as I give 
word, press it.” 

“But Vic!” she tried to twist him 
away from the window. “Bill! He's 
trying to get to Molik. And Molik is 
crazy. He's shooting in all direc- 
tions.” 

“We can't!” Vic twisted out of her 
grip. “This has to be done first.” 

“I— I can't, darling! He's Sally’s 
man and I must help him.” 

Vic tried to grab her but he was 
a second too late. She was out of the 
door and gone. There was but a sin- 


gle chance. It might work, Vic 
thought, but it would take perfect 
timing. Setting the borer's nose 
straight ahead, Vic set it going and 
leaped from the seat and for the 
switch. Flicking it downward, as he 
passed, Vic leaped out of the cab 
after Norma. 

X|OLICK WAS in a crouch. The 
gun was cradled in one hand. 
Already there were tiny strings of 
vapor escaping from the fissures 
made by the striking shells. But Mo- 
lik seemed unaware of them. His 
beady eyes were blank of expression. 
Spittle drooled from his mouth, as 
his eyes swept back and forth across 
the twisted rock floor, as if he were 
seeking fresh victims for his fire. 

Then his eyes centered on the cab. 
He saw a figure dart from it and 
an instant later another. Laughing 
wildly, Molik pressed the trigger of 
his gun again. The laughter died in 
his voice. There had been no fa- 
miliar sound. Once more and again he 
pressed the trigger before it dawned 
on him that he was out of ammuni- 
tion. Flinging the gun from him he 
leaped forward. 

“Bill! Bill!” Norma was scream- 
ing. “Watch it! He'll kill you!” 

Meredith cursed her under his 
breath. Despite the pain of a broken 
arm and the agony of his belly-crawl- 
ing, he felt he had Molik at a dis- 
advantage. For Molik had been una- 
ware of the fact Meredith was com- 
ing up behind him. Norma's voice 
would warn him.... 

Raising himself up, Meredith stag- 
gered forward toward Molik. He was 
still several yards from the man when 
he saw him aim the gun, saw him 
press futilely at the trigger and di- 
vined what had happened. Uttering 
a mew of triumph, Meredith charged 
just as Molik ran for the girl. 
(Continued On Page 146) 


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145 


146 


AMAZING STORIES 


(Continued From Page 144) 

But another reached Norma first 
and shoved her aside. 

“For keeps, this time!" Vic growled 
as he faced Molik. 

Like savages the two leaped at 
one another. Forgotten were the 
niceties of formal fighting. They 
fought as animals do, with teeth and 
claws and hammer blows of fists. 

Now one staggered as a blow 
knocked him back, and then the other 
fell back before the savage onslaught. 
Not a sound was uttered by either, 
only the broken sound of breath 
being forced into lungs and out 
again. 

# _ 

IMAGING wildly Molik suddenly 
grabbed Vic about the middle 
and wrestled him to the ground. Vic 
tried to pound a knee into the mad- 
man’s groin but they were too close 
pressed. He gouged at the other's 
eyeballs but missed and was reward- 
ed by a blow in his windpipe which 
made him gag for breath. The ground 
was sharp with pointed rock and it 
gouged and bit at the wrestlers. Mo- 
lik s finger nails ripped shreds of 
flesh from Vic's cheeks as he also 
tried for an eye gouge. Vic turned 
his head and pressed it down against 
the other's sweaty chest. And sudden- 
ly Vic brought his head up sharply. 

There was a whip-like crack as 
Vic's skull took Molik in the chin, 
and Molik released his hold. 

It was enough. Vic shot erect and 
as Molik tried to follow, Vic kicked 
him as hard as he could on the jaw. 
Molik’s head smacked against’ the 
floor. But if Vic thought the other 
was through, he was mistaken. Mo- 
lik rolled away from a second kick 
and scrambled erect. Lowering his 
head he hurled himself on Vic once 
more. The action was unexpected and 
the smaller man took the blow in the 
pit of the stomach and fell to the 


ground like a poleaxed steer. 

And Molik backed away a foot 
or so then leaped high in the air 
with the intentions of driving his 
heels into the fallen man's face. It 
didn't quite work out as he thought it 
would. 

Like a wildcat protecting its young 
Norma leaped into the fray. Diving 
straight forward she threw herself at 
Molik and knocked him to one side. 
He staggered about trying to recov- 
er his balance and Norma leaped at 
him her fingers tearing at his face. 
He struck her a backhand blow which 
knocked her five feet away and out. 

But those few seconds were enough 
for Vic to recover. If rage had torn 
at him before, it was as nothing to 
what he felt at sight of what Molik 
did to Norma. There was nothing 
human in the scream Vic Stewart 

gave as he leaped at Boris Molik 
again. 

Demoniac strength seemed to be 
his as he drove his fists through the 
guard thrown up by the other. Time 
after time his fists broke bone and 
flesh. And still Molik stood, like a 
badly-shaken bear, hurt, yet not 
down. But though Molik was not 
down the will to fight was gone. It 
would only be a matter of time be- 
fore Vic's wild blows would serve 
their purpose. 

Suddenly Molik turned and ran. 
Vic let his hands fall and a second 
of utter weakness shook him to the 
core. He could not have taken a 
single pursuing step if it meant his 
life. Not until he saw the goal of 
Molik's running feet. 

Dao San had dropped his gun as 
the blast of the energy shell took 
him. The gun was what Molik was 
seeking. And was going to get before 
Vic could stop him. As in a daze, 
Vic saw the man stoop, saw him lift 
the gun, saw the expression of com- 
plete joy and triumph on the broken, 


GEHENNA, INCORPORATED 


147 


bloody face and saw him aim the gun. 

Not even a prayer could save him, 
Vic knew. 

He closed his eyes as the finger 
tightened on the trigger, and heard 
the great booming sound of the gun 
firing. 

“Vic! Vic, darling!” he heard Nor- 
ma’s voice as from a vast distance. 
His eyes opened and widened in un- 
belief at what they saw. An energy 
shell had caught Molik’s upper body 
and had torn him in two. Then 
Vic turned in time to see Bill Mere- 
dith, still holding the gun, fall to 
the floor. 

HE MAN and girl reached him 
at the same time. 

“Bill. Bill, are you okay?” Vic 
asked as he cradled the other’s head 
in his arms. 

Norma knelt at Meredith’s side and 


bit her lip in anxiety. 

“Yeah. I’m okay. Just all beat out, 
that’s all.” 

“You saved his life, Bill!” Norma’s 
voice held an edge of tears and 
hysteria. 

Vic shook her gently to and fro 
as he let Bill go easily. “Now hon- 
ey,” he cautioned. “Easy does it. 
We’re not quite out of the woods.” 

“Why?” she asked in a more near- 
ly normal tone. 

“Several reasons,” he replied. 
“But first let’s get to see how bad 
Bill is.” 

The worst of Meredith’s wounds 
was a trifle. But the broken arm 
would need taking care of. Already 
the agony of it was taking its toll. 

“Now you stay with Bill,” Vic 
told the girl. “I did something just 
before I ducked out of the cab and 
(Concluded on page 152 ) 





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Conducted by ROG PHILLIPS 


T HIS ISSUE is being written as I am 
hurrying to get things cleared away 
for my trip to the Cinvention. Im way 
behind on correspondence, and 1 nave 
scads of letters and announcements that 
should appear in this issue, but must 

wnit until the next one. 

It will be my first fan convention. 1 11 
probably walk around bug-eyed like the 
rest of the newcomers, while the long 
time fen show their stuff But will get 
a chance to meet a lot of ' id lows I v 
learned to know and like through the 
etters and fanzines and writings m fan- 
zines. I know I will have lots of fun 

alone with everyone else. There s Milt 
Rothman, with whom I’ve been conduct- 
ing a feud in F.A.P.A. , Art Rapp, whom 
I missed when he passed through C 
cago once, and dozens of others. All 

friends, and all stf fans. v t 

From there I’ll be going to New York 
for the first time, and will meet a lot of 
fans there. I’ve heard a lot about the 
big city, and bought a safety pin to pm 
up my pocket I keep my wallet m when 
I*ride on the subway where all the pick- 
pockets hang out, so they say m detec- 
tive stories. I’ll take a trip out to the 
statue of Liberty, the only thing any 

country in Europe ever gave Ub, and 
when no one’s looking 1 11 write, Rog 

Phillips was here. Then when you go 
to Mew York you can go out and look tor 
it It will be my contribution to history. 
As long as Liberty and Justice prevails in 
oui* country, there will be a record tha 

“Rog Phillips was here/ 

Bv the time you are reading this it 
will be all over. I’ll he back in Evanston, 
where people can stop the bus and ask 
the driver questions without getting on, 
and not have him sound off like he owns 

the city. . ., i • 

Every city has its spirit, and is dit- 

ferent like people are different. In fact, 
a city is a person in many ways, with 
its personality, ambitions, business, etc.. 

So is a nation. And one of the finest 
things about living is to be able to get 
to know people and cities and nations 
until they are all like people and friends. 
The greatest thing in life is friends. (No, 
I haven’t had too much beer. Im just 
growing philosophical for the moment 
with no more in me than a cup of cof- 
fee.I 


When you don’t know people you get 
exaggerated ideas about them. Will Kog- 
ereonce said, “I never met anyone I 
didn’t like.” That just about sums it up. 

If you really know a person you general- 
ly get to like them, or at least undei stand 
them. There are exceptions, of course; bu.t 
some of those exceptions are due to lack 

of understanding. A . • 

In a way, fandom is a person A big, 
growing, rambunctious person, full ot nu- 
nior and spirit. In the last two years I ve 
gotten to know it pretty well. The time 
isn’t far off when fandom will be lost in 
the mass of people as science fiction come, 
into its own. It’s expanding. It s go ng 
into slick magazines, books, and pocket 
books. I have a pocket book coming out 
myself which will be on the stands when 
you read this. It’s an original, not a re- 
print, and is called “Time Trap”, and has 
a very nice cover by Malcolm Smith. It 
by Century Publications, and, incidentally, 
my 'first story outside magazine form, it 
isn’t too good, but maybe you might en- 

• j 

Now we come to the fanzines for , re- 
view this issue. The best way to get into 
fandom is to subscribe to some of them 
and find out what’s going on. You 11 get 
plenty of fun and entertainment out ot 

it that will amply repay you. . 

Ordinarily no special importance is at- 
tached to first position in review of fan- 
zines. This time, however, I want to make 
it a sort of position of honor, welcoming 
the very first fanzine from Ireland! Its 
from Walter A. Willis, 170 Upper New- 
townards Rd. , Belfast, N. Ireland. In a 
letter accompanying his zine Walter says 
there are only three actifans that he 
knows of in Ireland. The art editor of 
this fanzine, SLANT, is James White. 
The contents page lists Olive Jackson and 
Cedric Walker as also contributing. 

When I read how SLANT was pro- 
duced I thought of the old saying, “Where 
there’s a will there’s a way”,No mimeo 
machine could be obtained in Ireland. 
Walter picked up an old printing press 
and set the type by hand. Also, and you 
fan artists in America take note, the il- 
lustrations were produced on plywood with 

a razor blade. . _ , . , 

And if those boys m Ireland show re- 
markable energy, they show as much abil- 
ity to make the contents worth reading. 



149 






THE CLUB HOUSE 


Cedric Walker’s “All Dogs Are Equal”, 
for example. It’s as good a story asjouH 
find in any prozme, and better written 
than the average. There’s a department 
called “The Prying ^an”. That should 
call for a revision of the old saying. How 
about “Out of the prying fan into the 
mire’” Walt Willis is a natural punster, 
hi his editorial he says, “Print ng runs in 
our family! and I have merely reverted 

to type.” 

DAWN : the fanzine from Kentucky, a 
letterzine; 10c, 3'25c; ^® ter c ^ r \ e g’ B°ur- 

£"?* S’thli* ii», Ky wi.h "rlW let; 

ter that answers Rick Sneary s 

NFFF in a previous issue, and also 

few other letters that he thought needed 

answering. I agree with Bu ... . 

NFFF should not expect fan editois to 
irive NFFF’ers a discount, because they 
already take a loss on their fanzines. I m 
talking about dollars paid out for niatevr 

als, not wages, because the ’ av ® ra £® d red 
»ine doesn’t sell more than a nunareo 
copies and sells for ten cents which in- 
cludes three cents postage. The seven dol^ 
lars left after postage has to buy ten to 
thirty stencils, ink, mimeo paper, staples. 
It would be interesting to learn from sev- 
pral fan editors how many hours it takes 
altogether to put out a fanzine. mcluding 
addressing the copies and mailing taem. 
My ^ess is at least thirty hours of work 


—work they want to do or they wouldn t 

do it, but work, nevertheless. For no pay, 

and more often than not with part of the 
costs coming out of their own pocket, bo 
why should any fan want to get a dis- 
count? It should be the other way 

ar E<f Cox S econd place with a letter 

about dealers’ prices. Evan H. Appelman 
comes next with a very long letter de- 
fending scientists and Dr. Rhine of Duke 
University, then goes into his idea for 
a fan better business bureau, of which 
Burbee, in his letter, said, “Why such an 
elaborate set-up for perhaps 500 people: 

Well, fandom has 83™"? t"”*; 5 un Z 

dred names when the CLUB HOUSE fust 
started, to no one knows how many now; 
but it’s a lot more than Burbee suspects, 

I suspect. Just the same, on reading over 
Evan Appelman’s plans, I can see noth- 
ing he has to offer that cant be found 
already by subscribing to a judicious se- 
lection of fanzines regularly. 

Rick Sneary follows with a discussion 
of the choice of convention site. He ad- 
vocates that it be done by NFFF, with 
which I don’t agree. The annual conven- 
tion belongs to all fandom and should re- 
main that way. The big objection seems to 
be to having some local group go to t.ie 
convention and push through its cause 
while others don’t have a chance because 
they don’t lobby for it. My opinion is that 

( Concluded on Page 150) 



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THE CLUB HOUSE 

(concluded from page 149) 

any group strong enough to lobby for it 
has enough organization and desire to 
succeed at putting over a successful con- 
vention. It would be a shame to have the 
convention site picked at a spot which 
cooled off on the idea and did little to 
make it a success. 


Art Rapp has a nice letter to close the 
letter department, coming up with the 
statement that DAWN is called DAWN 
because it's published dawn in Kentucky. 

FANTASY-TIMES: twice a month; 10c, 
12/$1.00; James V. Taurasi, 137-03 32nd 
Ave., Flushing, New York; the newszine 
that brings you ALL the news of science 
fiction, from the pro and the fan fields. 
With nine very active fans on the editorial 
staff, each a specialist in his own field of 
news, it would be pretty hard for any 
other fan newszine to equal it. 

Of special interest in one of the latest 
numbers is the announcement that Rick 
Sneary was elected president of YOUNG 
FANDOM, which is an organization for 
new fans. Rick is one of the finest young 
men I’ve ever been privileged to meet. 
He lives in South Gate, which is a suburb 
of Los Angeles, or rather a section of that 
city. He’s been a fan a long time, is pres- 
ident of F.A.P.A. , and active in many 
other groups including the N.F.F.F. . This 
is for both boys and girls. The young 
lady in charge of the femfans is Arniece 
Gurley; but drop a line to Rick Sneary at 
2062 Santa Ana St., South Gate, Cali- 
fornia, and you’ll get all the details. Be 
sure and enclose a self addressed 
stamped envelope, one of the long ones. 

SPACEWARP : 9 issues for $1.00; Art 
Rapp, 2120 Bay St. , Saginaw, Michigan. 
Arts been bringing this mag out pretty 
regularly for a couple of years now. It’s 
always entertaining and full of humor and 
good healthy imaginative fan writing. 

The July issue contains “Vicious Cir- 
cle”, by Dan Mulcahy that has plenty of 
laughs. It s a satirical future history of 
fandom. “The Psycho Lab” is by Wrai 
Ballard, who gives this highly entertain- 
ing sketch of why he was born: “I was 
laying around the Embrionic Gardens 
with the other unborn babies, when up 
steps this attendant. 4 Say bud,’ he says. 

I thought you’d be interested to know 
that there s a mag that specializes in 
fantasy on the stands. Been out for a 
s uple issues already.’ 'Huh?’ says I. 'Why 
wasn’t I notified at once? Quick, brine* 
my stork!” 

Wilkie Conner writes one of his Long- 
hammer stories, with a forward, “If H.P. 
Longhammer resembles anyone living or 
dead, the guy should be ashamed to admit 
rv* 


That just covers some of the highlights 
of SPACEWARP. Honestly, now, how 
can you go through life not reading 
SPACEWARP? 15 

BURROUGHS BULLETIN : No. 9, V. 
and Dorothea Coriell, 1100 Western Ave- 
nue, Peoria, Illinois. The free fanzine de- 
voted exclusively to Edgar Rice Bur- 
roughs’ looks. Be sure and enclose a 
stamp when you send for it. A letter and 
article by Arthur Maxon, M.Sc. , Cornell 
University, claims that Tarzan is a real 
person, and that he met him in Africa, 
and, as Tarzan himself says, “In fact, I’m 
a friend of Burroughs. He visits me at my 
estate quite often, and while he’s there he 
takes notes on the stories I tell him.” 
Whataya know! Move your Burroughs 
books over into the non-fiction shelves, all 
you librarians! Anybody wanna boycott the 
Burroughs Mystery? 

SPEARHEAD: August, vol. 1 no. 3; 
Editor Tom Carter, 817 -Starling Ave, 
Martinsville, Va. . Ten cents per copy, and 
with thirty-seven mimeographed pages 
they can’t win. A look at the contents 
page shows David H. Keller, Wrai Bal- 
lard, Herman King, Gerry de la Ree, 
Redd Boggs, Art Rapp, and Don Wilson 
contributing. What more can you want? 
The cover, by Ray Nelson, depicts a cou- 
ple looking at the exploding ruins of an 
atom-bombed city. 

Also included with this copy is a copy 
of a mimeo fifty-one page novel, and a 
letter about it from Tom Carter: 

Dear Rog: 

Under separate cover I’m sending you 
a review copy of “No Greater Dream” 
by Joe Kennedy. This is the first of a 
series of similar mimeographed booklets, 
and I would grealy appreciate your re- 
viewing it in the CLUB HOUSE. You 
might mention that the price is 75c, which 
may sound like a lot, but which we must 
charge to break even. It will be followed 
collection of the best of the Amy 

Worth Tales by Keller. A rarely fine col- 
lection.... 

Cordially, 

Tom. 

And I might add that the mimeography 
is perfect. It’s an excellent job and well 
worth the seventy-five cents. Good luck, 
Tom, and I hope you sell enough copies to 
break even. Every fan knows how expen- 
sive it is to put out. 


ROCKET NEWS LETTER : journal 
the Chicago Rocket Society, 15c, $1.50/yr.: 
Vincent Story, 5747 University Ave 
Chicago, 111. This is developing^ into a 
really worthwhile zine, and gives you the 
latest in rocket research and theory from 
the technical minds that spend all their 
time on it. Pro writers and fans alike 


THE CLUB HOUSS 


131 


will find plenty n 'n t Ve a rticle h *on JU ‘‘B’iMion 
is a very Propellants’*, by 

?&*$& “„ d y TruStT# 
sr-afs- s “*:? & c » 

Roosevelt College. 

nr OOAllNGTON NEWS LETTER: 
August 1949; Tucker, q. Box *260, 

Bloomington,’ Illinois. Circulation ^ now 
around four hundred . copies. And Wim u & 
issue Redd Boggs ] 0 in_ z - ne has literal- 

If hi'VS "i «»™»« mi. «< fa affl 5 

I, tJtrr r.r iflesgs 

the Fantasy Foundation of Fandom, ol 4F. 
has gotten married . 

/AmopowaisT^oi^m. 

McAdam*, The send a stamp 

Illinois. No P rice }*® . * copy# This is the 
at least, if yon ^ an3 interested in 

fanzine slanted f . ,, t^e more stf 

mathematics, and especml ^ t ^ 

aspects of mawi. nyy 1 .. branches 

o^aSced math in simple ianguage. and 
with some really good wilting. 

ODD: published when and £ ^c^R.D. 

Fisher, Jr., I 3 ® j “L wkto illos. The 

Mo.. Mimeographed, with ekto t 

feature in this issue is a stoiy, 

Russel's Last Experiment , by Max. 

■tun QTK’f AND REVIEW : 10c; _ Tom 

bi-monthly, ' l” ie L Tom writes he 

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1 52 


AMAa-'NG stories 


(Concluded from page 147) 

I’ve got to get back and see if it 
worked.” 11 

The switch was still in the down 

portion. Q ui ckly Vic ran to the win- 
dow, a silent prayer on his lips. A 
huge sigh of relief broke from him 
as he peered out. The borer had brok- 
en through the last crust, and as it 
did the capper had gone into action. 
Grant and Company had won in its 
ce The cap was on and the rest 
would be a matter of time and work. 

c had saved the world. For hadn’t 
e timed it just right the borer would 
have broken through the crust and 
; escaping g as would have taken 
Ii re and exploded. The whole planet 
would have become a flaming py re 
for every human on its surface.. 

of^LT, the cab and told them 
Of what had happened. 

That s fine, Bill wheezed. “But 
what sbon, Melik's nm above , n 

We ' re still not 

out of the fire.” 

■r y ic . thought ° therwise - 

fa?? that y em ’ J 10 S3id ’ Plus the 
act that they had an energy gun 

would convince them Molik had lost. 

imm ’ ' S m ° re if we Promise 

immunity they’ll give in,” Vic said. 

He was right in every respect. 

ihe audio-television was blaring 

t ie news to the world. Grant and 

ompany had obtained all rights to 
the energy of the Earth , s 

by being first at the scene. 

Bill Meredith, his arm in a sling 
the other about the shoulder of hfs 
wife sat on the edge of an easy chair 
ich h.s wife occupied. Norma and 
c Stewart were seated side by 

on , e ° n a , 1 ° ve scat T1 tey had waited 
only until Bill’s and Sally’s son had 

gone to bed before the talk began. 

“What do you think Molik would 
have done?” Bill asked. 


“He was crazy, for sure,” Vic an- 
swered. “And it’s hard to say what 
a madman can do. I thought he was 
at t e seat of all the trouble, but I 
couldn’t quite figure out how he was 
t>oing to manage. But he was right 

f..° Ut ,? ne thln £- Whoever controls 
this thing, controls the world.” 

Then let me tell you something 
you don t know,” Norma said as her 
ingers caressed the torn flesh of 
Vic s cheek. “Grant and Company is 
but another name for the United 
Mates Government.” 

"What?” the two men exclaimed in 
unison. 

bat s right. My mission was a 

whaTh WaS SCnt t0 ChCCk U P on 

ment . t0 3 certain instru- 

• The same instrument Molik had 

S olen. We knew then that maybe 

th er interests might try sabotage, 
ihe Government couldn’t permit a 

wh t ? the gigantic Powers 
which would be theirs should this 

undertaking be successful. And the 

Gov ern also knew Europeans 

Inc. was but another name for a 
foreign power. We had to get there 

“ S °~ 0r Vic ac ted angry. “A spy, 
s?v eh ‘ My loveJ y Htrte 

lTke' t mC ’ Mat3 ’ h ° W wouId 
like to live in Gehenna?" 

She shuddered involuntarily. “Uh 

tw , w,s ,o ° ciose ,o ,h ' ii,er >i 

“> live in its nstne- 

“ItoZUZZ" V C whispered gently. 

ei what its name, wherever 

that.” 3 ' 6 " HeaVCn ’ JuSt — mber 
The kiss he got in return for his 

wound madC ' him f ° rget 311 his 
A A u except the one love gives 
And that Death alone can remote 


• ta 


THE END 



f 


f 



★ By LYNN STAN BUS II * 




A S EVERYONE knows the two sys- 
tems of transmitting TV signals from 

ona place to another over long distances, 
are f>y either coaxial cable or high fre- 
quency relay stations. There are numerous 
links of both types lacing various portions 
of the country. Each has its advantages 
and disadvantages with the edge going to 
the relay, we think. 

Coaxial cable is buried beneath the 

g round. It is expensive but tough. It has, 
owever certain limitations with regard to 
the width of the signal it can carry. This 
means that not as many channels can be 
sent nor as clearly. Furthermore it re- 
quires numerous booster stations along 
the line. 


On the other hand the relay station is 
nothing but a re-transmitter which picks 
up the signal and rebroadcasts it in a 
narrow beam which is flipped from tower 
to tower at forty or fifty mile intervals. 
It can have any band width and the num- 
ber of channels it will handle is only 
limited by the transmitting facilities. Of 
course it requires constant maintainance, 
even without occupancy. These signal tow- 
ers with their parabolic antennas will un- 
doubtedly be a very familiar part of the 
American landscape from now on. They 


are unattended and* equipped with auto- 
matic devices that guard against trouble. 
They're expensive but permanent. Fur- 
thermore they require a minimum of area. 

In view of these facts we think that the 
major long distance TV systems will fa- 
vor the relay station method. It is a rath- 
er romantic and picturesque sight to see 
this lone chain of stations silently dis- 
tributing the fascinating views it can. 
Eventually every spot in America will be 
linked to every other spot by the invisible 
chain of audio and video radio waves, just 
as the former links us now. 

It is interesting to note that a number 
of small towns which are just a little be- 
yond the fringe area of TV transmitters 
have successfully managed to have TV by 
constructing what might be called their 
“private relay stations''. Technical mind- 
ed men in the towns have thrown up high 
receiving towers capable of getting the 
signals, then re-amplified them and re- 
broadcast them over the surrounding area. 
The system works fine and undoubtedly 
will be a common method of supplying 
small towns off the beaten track with 
plenty of satisfactory video. 

The clever ingenuity of the California 
amateur who built a TV transmitter from 
surplus parts and is now operating a lim- 


V: 



FORGOTTEN MVSTERIES 

YBS, THEY ARB T H B STRANGBST 

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A quarter of a century of research went into this dramatic presentation of the REAL 
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These are the “Forgotten Mysteries** which ran for 
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Friends of his will have TV if they have 
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FANTASTIC FACTS 

By LEE OWENS 

WITCH DOCTOR SECRETS 

F OR HUNDREDS of years the witch -sec- 
tors of Africa have treated the diseases 
of their tribesmen with herbs and drugs 
found in the African bush country. They 
have kept their secrets to themselves hand- 
ing them down from one generation to the 
next. Recently, through the persuasiveness 
of some British scientists, the native doc- 
tors have agreed to let their brews and po- 
tions be examined in modern laboratories. 
They consented after being told that their 
medicines may be able to help people all 
over the world. Their medicines will first 
be tested on laboratory animals to decide 
what value they have in treating human 
patients. Who can say to what extent the 
savage witch doctors can contribute to mo- 
dern science? 

* * * 

THE BIG EYE AT WORK 

T HE WORLD’S largest and most power- 
ful telescope which is located m Mt. 
Palomar in California, has done ius first 
job. Scientists have peered through the 
scope and twice as far out into the heavens 
as they have ever been able to see before. 
Whole new worlds of stars were seen. To 
some who had once thought that there was 
an edge or an end to the universe, the big 



The Dark Continents of Your Mind 

DO YOU struggle for balance ? Are you forever trying to maintain energy, 
enthusiasm, and the will to do? Do your personality and power of accom- 
plishment ebb and flow-like a stream controlled by some unseen valve? 
Deep within you are minute organisms. From their function spring your 
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THE BIG EYE AT WORK 


155 


telescope tends to prove this idea false. 
They have sighted stars so far distant that 
it takes their light a billion years to reach 
our Earth. Most astronomers now agree 
that there is no end to the universe, but 
that it goes on infinitely. But this is only 
the beginning of the new knowledge that 
will be gained through the use of the big 
telescope. In years to come it will unfold 
many facts which are mysteries to us now. 

* * * 

ANTI-SOCIAL PLANTS 


M OTHER nature has provided certain 

trees and shrubs with methods of 
keeping away undesirable neighbors. Some 
plants send out heavy masses of roots that 
crowd out all other plant life. Recently it 
was discovered that some plants give off 
poison and wage a sort of chemical warfare 
against their associates. The leaves of the 
wormwood shrub contain a poison which is 
washed to the ground by rains thereby pro- 
tecting it against aggression. A desert 
shrub called the “guayule plant” makes sure 
of a spot for itself giving off a poison 
through its roots. The poison effects the 
soil for quite a space around the plant, and 
any seeds that happen to fall in this area 
fail to sprout. 

* * * 

QUIET! 

T HE MODERN home is a marvel in 
many ways. Heating, resistance to 

corrosion, comfort, air conditioning, simple 
and logical placement of rooms and serv- 
ices, the lavish use of electrical gadgets — 
all these things are almost perfect. Yet, 
there is something wrong with most mod- 
ern construction, something that is only 
now being considered. It is the matter of 
noise ! 

Our modern civilization is charac- 
terized by noise-making apparatus ranging 
from trains, cars, motors etc. to radios, 
clattering pans and active people. Yet to 
anyone examining our homes without pre- 
viously being told, it would appear as if 
our houses were all located in hospital 
zones. This is for the simple reason that 
there is hardly any conscious effort made 
to insulate a home against noise. 

As is usual, the initial steps have been 
taken in Europe, notably in Holland and 
England where a great deal of home 
acoustical research is being done. But it 
has filtered over here and various acous- 
tical groups, cooperating with construction 
men, are trying to reach standards which 
will become universal. 

Psychologists have attributed a portion 
of the nervousness so common to the con- 
stant exposure of the average American to 
a continual barrage of noise. Hence acous- 
tic studies will undoubtedly have a strong 
influence on medicine. 

The acoustical insulation of a home do- 


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pends on certain unobvious things. Floors 
and ceiling must be suspended so as to 
absorb and dampen vibration and sound* 
Walls must be designed insulate not only 
against heat but against sound waves. 
Sometimes these two fields conflict and a 
compromise must be reached. 

But in general skilled architectural de- 
sign can provide insulation against noise. 
There are a large number of public apart- 
ment buildings in Holland and in England 
which have been constructed with a wide 
variety of techniques. These are occupied 
by ordinary families and are serving as 
laboratories to determine the best, cheap- 
est and most efficient ways to eliminate 
the bugaboo. 

For floors for example, there is no bet- 
ter sound deadener than two layers of 
concrete isolated by a layer of glass wool. 
This “floating floor” provides almost per- 
fect sound isolation. For walls, cinder 
blocks, separated by a couple of inches of 
dead air space perform admirably. 

It is probably true that in the years to 
come people will buy homes with this 

sound isolation in mind. It certainly is an 
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RUBBER ROADS 

S OMEDAY YOU may drive your car 

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rubber to determine whether such high- 
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Rubberized highways are not a new idea. 
Holland and the Netherlands East Indies 
experimented with it before the war and 
found that they stood up very well during 
the difficult war years. 

To make this new type of surfacing, rub- 
ber powder is mixed with an oil and as- 
phalt. This gives the road an elastic qua- 
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freezing which often makes cracks in or- 
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HEATED HIGHWAY 


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region. As this liquid runs through the 
pipes, it keeps the pavement about a fifty 
degree temperature. 

Another short stretch of heated highway 
is in Detroit, Michigan. It is only 600 feet 
long and it is heated by electricity and is 



■A&t 


HEATED HIGHWAY 


157 




thus kept free from slippery ice and snow. 
Because of the high cost of installing and 
maintaining such highways, they cannot be 
widely used in the United States, but along 
certain dangerous stretches of highway, it 
would certainly pay off in human lives to 
eliminate ice and snow. 

* * * 

4,000 M. P. H. WIND 

A NEW WIND tunnel which creates a 
breeze of 4,000 miles per hour is being 

used by an aviation company to test guided 
missiles. This new tunnel does not use the 
blower system. Instead, one end of the tun- 
nel holds a huge air-storage tank. Placed 
at the opposite end of the tunnel is a big 
vacuum tank. When they want the breeze 
to blow, they suck all the air out of the 
vacumm tank and pump the storage tank 
full. Then at the turn of a switch, the air 
rushes from the storage tank, through the 
tunnel and into the empty vacuum tank. 
The engineers place their scale models be- 
tween the two tanks. They watch what hap- 
pens to these miniatures when the air rush- 
es by them, and instruments inside the 
models record information. 


MECHANICAL MAIDS 

_ ^ By Pet© Bogg i 

T HIS MAGAZINE has harped loud and 
long about the prophecies of science 

fiction coming true. It has pointed with 
pride to the realization of these predic- 
tions— atomic power, moon rockets (they re 
almost here), mechanical brains etc. But 
we're overwhelmed with the fact that one 
needn't go outside his own home to see the 
miracle that imagination and scientific 
thought have wrought. In fact, the home, 
with TV, a myriad of appliances, auto- 
matic heating systems, radio, and many 
others, gives us the best example of all 
of tecnnology at work. 

Consider the case of the modern house- 
wife. At her beck and call around the 
home are no human maid servants in most 
homes at least But instead she has dozens 
of electric motors that do everything a 
maid servant can do and do it better. No 
one need point out the miracle of the auto- 
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mechanical mixers, or the powerful vacuum 
cleaners, or the brilliant fluorescent light- 
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Among the most articulate of the home 
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chine. This marvel of electrical and hy- 
draulic ingenuity is a tribute to the relief 
of tedium. The expression “washerwoman” 
is synonomous with hard labor, with back- 
breaking work. But today it no longer 


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means anything. Thirty years ago a woman 
who said she was going to wash the 
clothes made it sound like a prison term, 
and in the measure of hard work, it was. 
But today, that same woman can put hpr 
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mechanism in all its mysterious glory take 
over. 

A modern automatic washing machine 
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out clothes of about ten pounds weight in 
a matter of twenty minutes 1 And in the 
course of the washing not a human hahd 
will have touched the machine. In fact, all 
one does is feed and empty the machine. 
We can suggest enly one improvement and 
probably right now this is on the drawing 
boards of the manufacturers — or perhaps 
it has been rejected — that improvement is 
the incorporation of a hot air blower which 
in a matter of a minute or two could dry 
the clothing completely. 

Did science fiction ever go so far as to 
intimate that everything would be done by 
the machine? In its flightier moments per- 
haps it did, but we doubt whether anybody 
expected to see such complete dominance 
of the machine in such a short time. Any- 
body who has wasted time visualising 
robots in psuedo-human form was simply 
off the beam. Our robots are squat func- 
tional creatures who don't walk around or 
who don’t talk, but brother, they sure can 
work! We’re spending our time now try- 
ing to think up something original that 
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★ By F. L Cop© ic 

T HOSE MEN who are seeking to dis- 
cover the secret of life, do not turn to 
c the complete animal to find their solution. 
Instead of attempting to study a whole 
creature, biologists go to the simplest form 
of living things, just as a chemist turns to 
the smallest and simplest molecules for his 
studies. The biologist works on the cell, 
the smallest living unit, which might be 
called the “atom of biology.” 

It is impossible to describe a living or- 
ganism in terms of anything smaller than 
a single cell. The single cell is the com- 
plete life-unit itself. Any further reduction 
in size means one is no longer considering 
a living unit. Thus if a piece of tissue, say 
of the muscles of animals or humans, & 
broken down, the point is reached where 
the single cell alone exists. To examine a 
part of cell, is useless for it no longer lives. 
A part of a muscle cell, for example, will 
not exhibit the contractual or extensible 
properties of muscular tissue. One must 
have at least one whole cell to see that. 

Cells as a rule are small, averaging pro- 
bably no more than a hundredth of a milli- 


BIOLOGICAL ATOM 


159 


meter in size though there are the excep- 
tions. An ordinary egg is a huge single cell, 
but even here the majority of it is simple 
nutriment for the basic portions of the cell. 

A human's body contains over hundreds of 
thousands of billions of single cells, all of 
them minute. 

It has been suggested that dread diseases 
may be conquered in the same fashion as 
was the atomic bomb. For example, some 
say that the government should set huge 
laboratories and great sums of money for 
the elimination of cancer just as it did for 
the creation of the atomic bomb. 

Unfortunately this idea is unsound. The 
atomic bomb was simply the solution of an 
engineering problem. Working on the ma- 
lignant cells of cancer is still an unknown 
sort of problem. Scientists do not know 
from what direction the answer is likely 
to come because they know so little of the 
nature of life. If any solution is to be at- 
tempted effort and money must be spread 
over the whole realm of biological work- 
then from somewhere, maybe from an ob- 
scure biochemist working on cells, or per- 
haps from a man working with blood, will 
come a suggestion or a clue. 

Biology is still in its rudimentary stages. 
The fusion of mathematician, chemist and 
physicist, with the bilogist, is likely 'to give 
rise to a new kind of researcher with an 
extremely general sort of knowledge who 
will be able to see the problems and their 
biological solutions in an entirely different 
light. 

Getting back to the original thesis, it 
looks like the answers to many human trou- 
bles, are going to come from the technolo- 
gist who is making the study of cells his 
business. Somewhere, locked within that 
mysterious protoplasmic core, is a startling 
tale about the nature and meaning of life 
and the biologist will dig it out! 

BRAINSTORM 

By June Lurie 

A FEW weeks ago there was a brief 
newspaper item, hidden in the huge 

mass of daily trivia, which had* startling 
implications. The article described the ac- 
tivities of a young technician, a man 
trained in electronics and whit an inquir- 
ing mind. It said that he was experiment- 
ing with “brainwaves”. 

The article quoted the young man as say- 
ing that 3ince it is a known scientific fact 
that the working brain involves great elec- 
trical activity, including the flow of elec- 
tric currents, and it is known that radio 
waves are produced whenever an electric 
current flows, it automatically follows that 
the brain is radiating electromagnetic 
waves just as is a radio or IV transmitter. 
Furthermore the man maintained that the 
human mind is receptive to these radio 
waves and he gives that as an explanation 


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AMAZING STORIES 






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for extra-sensory perception and the ex- 
periments of Dr. Rhine of Duke University. 

These theories have been advanced before, 
but apparently this experimenter is going 
to great lengths to prove his contention. His 
laboratory is well equipped with encephalo- 
graphs, oscilloscopes, and all the multitudi- 
nous apparatus of an electronics laboratory. 

Unfortunately little else was said and no 
idea was given of his techniques, but we 
can extrapolate a great deal from what we 
know. It is true that the brain engages in 
electrical activities and that currents with 
their associate radio waves are produced. 
Science has known this for a long time. Un- 
doubtedly regular labs are worfing on the 
same problem. The trouble is that we hear 
so little of the progress — if any — that we - 
don’t often think about the matter. 

As we see it, the explanation of the brain 
as a radio transmitter is sound — but there 
is one difficult question to answer. Since 
the currents in the brain are so feeble 
and the resultant radio waves must also 
be weak, how is it possible for the mind 
to pick up these minute oscillations at any 
distance much less the thousands of miles 
over which extra-sensory perception has 
been known to occur? 

The brain, in order to do that, must be 
an exceedingly sensitive receiver, much bet- 
ter than anything we have constructed in 
the lab. But this is contradictory too, for 
it is known that receivers have been made 
of incredible sensitivity, hardly capable of 
being exceeded by the brain. Yet. . . 

We simply don’t know the answer. Very 
likely it is possible as a number of scien- 
tists have suggested, that the future pur- 
suit of science will revolve around psychol- 
ogy* biology and all the other natural sci- 
ences instead of the physical sciences as is 
now the case. In any case where there is 
a will there is a way, and Man is not prone 
to give up when a job is started. We pre- 
dict that eventually the problem of brain 
communication will be solved— as it has 
been in so many science fiction stories. It 
is inevitable. Apparently there are no lim- 
its to human ingenuity. 


BRU1TTFS BABY 

★ By Sandy Miller ^ 

T HE DICK TRACY wrist-watch radio is 
old stuff. We mentioned a few months 

back that scientists were well in the pro- 
spect of constructing just such a radio. At 
that time they were close to it, because the 
technique of the printed circuit was just 
being developed. 

It seems that Dr. Brunetti of the United 
States Bureau of Standards in Washington, 
has finally produced the world’s smallest 
practical complete transmitter-receiver. 
This little gadget which is about the size 
of a package of cigarettes can be strapped 
to the wrist and it contains all the elements 




BRUNETTI'S baby 


161 


if- 







A 

\ 


lor both receiving an f; EC "f?he inclusion 
umph of the radio art > here the ^ The 

£?&£K ***“" 

* to, ”21;' llo'siUe this 

ment 1 ' Will sets become conceivably sma 

of what we k n °w. batteries and 

the first; very sma 1 P circuit, along 

the invention of ’ f uses 

with miniature tubes i ^ „ uest ion re- 
and heraing aidS c The second ^ radio 

ceives a yc3 De f~ u orY >aiw all the time. 

equipment are geUmg “citizens” 

as? s 

of equipment. Eliminauni nQW an ac - 

circuits, and P owe ^, result is that most 
complished fact- , . ® hardly any 

electronic installati ever ything is so 

5^?^ ^ oes wrong 

you simply plug in a fts* repercussions 

All this is going to have its rep receivera 

in television. Most mod 

S^TSS* JSS? “SKi? s “« : 

»*&» »b. .nd toprf»*5j 

circuit will soon market, of 

SKly S HI Sf b £v 3 le 0 ss n cost gly it a ts S 

Somlhat cos! goes down with size espe- 
cially in radio parts- expect a „ y 

About all tnat Y®£f cathode ray tube 

drastic changes in it y he large — 

until ' a^tirst'rate slpT Paction system 

“ irst sasas-a 

twenty years from oug ht the present 

will be amazed that we i tno ^ le5S good . 
equipment even satisfactory 

Oh well, that s. proge . * look *t the 

Pardon me, while I ^ that* 

a 

WHALE SIZE 

Sam Lau© ^ 

subject of wha ' es : be most closely akin to 
mammals, seem to be cre ature and 

src.«J 

m'.tioo’ot Si whale. Among anim.1 M« 


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BLACK SORCERY P- Bw 2 


162 


amazing stories 


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epecIflcatlonf^Bow S McaraSlln ™ ', D ,? “P 

mmaaMm*: 


out nniff incl ?u es a11 * the whale is \vith- 
out question the greatest thing that ever 

roamed the surface or the seas of thl 

E arth past present— or future. 

ever” wl? 8 r'^J 3 a ? bi <? as a whale-or 
tifl w as Consider the monstrous blue 
whale which has attained a length of on* 
hundred and ten feet and a S of ml 

tw« d m d *J nd twenty or thirty tons I And 
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muscle lives-the thought is staggering? 

Fhl r ,r i-r he ^ eat Jurass io age of tepees 

parison t] th* > 2 ons p rs were small in com- 
parison, the Brackiosaurus being a 

Scientist? of Z 1? d fifty tons & weigh? 

ffar. s* F P 

sand feet. P of a,most two thou- 

brelthinrrar?’ bb^mamma? wffi 

gWMfs, a 

onTapid Xv a es eS and° n,t - “«« ^iSS 

nmm i time 

★ By MOIV BLAIR ^ 





Warn 



T™ FANTASY, A Connecticut Yankee 
± At King Arthur’s Court, has been re- 

nfteleMcHn 0 ? picture ‘ This entertain- 
ing tale rich in humor is not merely the 

to hi Ca if C ° med , y Which Twain designed it 
fiction flnH S f a *° 3 harbinger of science 

son That? I 3n - taSy - P°, ssibi , lities - T he rea- 
^" K “ at * so J s simply that the Middle 
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l! The way King Arthur finds Excalibur 
his famous sword, embedded in a rock 
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search for the Holy ® the knfeS? 
battles against monsters and dragons of 

tunltw ente T isiYl ? s - f . author an opporl 

no “gadgets^ in ft th^ C ^ ,1 *f erary m ^ne. True 

volved and thl cJ he modei ? sense are in- 
taiJ „ ? , x. story sm acks of the fairv 

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ween Knight! Shades of the Wizard of 

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"HOW TO GET ALONG 

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This most unusual text 



















ALL the SECRETS of 


a CON MAN... 


Hemlu i! 

The True Story of 
“Yellow Kid” Weil 

America's /Waster* 
Swindler ... As Told to 

W. T. BRANNON 

Ace Writer of 
True Detective Stories 



"Yellow Kid" Weil took more than $8,000,000 
from gamblers, business men, bankers, and un- 
wary strangers in the course of his amazing career. 

You will gasp with disbelief as you read the in- 
side details of his fantastic swindles, of his lavish 
living, expensive cars and yachts, and beautiful 
women. 

The “Yellow Kid’s” career began at the race 
tracks, where his many ingenious schemes brought 
him sizable sums from gullible bettors. 

From this he progressed to elaborate set-ups 
which involved fake money machines, bogus min- 
ing stock, off-color real estate deals, and luxurious 
gambling houses. He rented suites of offices and 
even entire buildings, completely furnished, and 
operated by stooges hired to impress his prospects. 
At one time he operated both a bank and a hotel. 
He was famous for the elaborate detail with which 
his schemes were planned and carried out. 

His favorite prey was the man who already had 


plenty of money but wanted more. To such* men 
Weil would pose by turns as a banker, a rpfliing 

engineer, a famous author, or a wealthy J>rokcr» 

% 

His story is not doctored nor whitewashed. The 
adventures of this master rogue are stranger than 
any fiction, and they are set down just as they were 
related to W. T Brannon, famous writer of true 
detective stories. 

The ' Yellow Kid” takes you behind the scenes 
of the get-rich-quick confidence games. He reveals 
how victims are found, how the build-up works, 
and how the switch-off system keeps them from be- 
coming suspicious. 

This book will tip you off to the methods of 
swindlers and, as Erie Stanley Gardner says, "It is 
required reading for everyone who wants to keep 
from being a sucker.” - c 

Buy "YELLOW KID” WEIL today at your 
favorite book store, or send S3. 00 direct to the 
publisher for your copy of this amazing book. 


ZIFF-DAVIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 


Dept. F, 185 North Wabash Avenue 


♦ Chicago 1, Illinois